jtibrar;p  of  "tho  Cheolooiical 

PRINCETON  •  NEW  JERSEY 


Thp.  ,Tnhn  M  .  V  t -«  »  i-v  r'.  -I-  i 

BX  9178  .A47  S4  1860  v.2 
Alexander,  Joseph  A.  1809- 
1860. 

Sermons 

_  V.2 


I 

X 


V. 

V. 


/ 


Digitized  by  the  internet  Archive 
in  2018  with  funding  from 
Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


https://archive.org/details/sermons02alex_0 


JOSEPH  ADDISON  ALEXANDER,  D.D. 


VOLUME  II. 


SECOND  EDITION. 


NEW  YORK: 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER,  GRAND  STREET. 

LONDON: 

SAMPSOJf  LOW,  SON  &  COMPANY. 

18G0. 


Enteued,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  tlie  year  1800,  by 
CHAELES  SCEIBNEE, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern 

District  of  New  York. 


JOHN  F.  TROW, 

PRINTKH,  BTEKEOTYPER,  AND  ELECTROTVPa«, 

50  Greene  Street,  New  York, 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


PAGE 

I. 

Ephesians  5,  14. — Awake  thou  that  steepest,  and  arise  from  the 
dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light, . 6 

II. 

Mark  14,  41. — Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your  rest :  it  is  enough,  the 
hour  is  come ;  behold,  the  Son  of  Man  is  betrayed  into  the 
hands  of  sinners, . 30 

III. 

Matthew  11,  12. — From  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now, 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take 
it  by  force, . 60 


IV. 

Isaiah  66,  1. — IIo,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters, 
and  he  that  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat :  yea,  come, 
buy  wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without  price,  .  .  69 


Y. 

Isaiah  66,  2. — Wherefore  do  ye  spend  money  for  that  which  is 
not  bread  ?  and  your  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ? 
Hearken  diligently  unto  me,  and  eat  ye  that  which  is  good, 
and  let  your  soul  delight  itself  in  fatness,  .  .  .  .88 


4 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


PAGE 

VI. 

Isaiah  55,  6. — Seek  ye  the  Lord  A\diile  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near,  .  . . 106 


VII. 

Philippians  3,  13.  14. — Brethren,  I  count  not  myself  to  have  ap¬ 
prehended  :  but  this  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  those  things 
which  are  behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which 
are  before,  I  press  towards  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high 
calling  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus,  . . 126 

VIII. 

Luke  18,  1-8. — And  he  spake  a  parable  unto  them  to  this  end, 
that  men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint ;  saying. 
There  was  in  a  city  a  judge,  which  feared  not  God,  neither  re¬ 
garded  man :  And  there  was  a  widow  in  that  city ;  and  she 
came  unto  him,  saying,  Avenge  me  of  mine  adversary.  And 
he  would  not  for  a  while  :  but  afterward  he  said  ivithin  him¬ 
self,  though  I  fear  not  God,  nor  regard  man ;  yet  because 
this  widow  troubleth  me,  I  will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her  con¬ 
tinual  coming  she  Aveary  me.  And  the  Lord  said,  hear  what 
the  unjust  judge  saith.  And  shall  not  God  avenge  his  OAvn 
elect,  which  cry  day  and  night  unto  him,  though  he  bear  long 
with  them  ?  I  tell  you  that  he  will  avenge  them  speedily. 
Nevertheless,  Avhen  the  Son  of  man  cometh,  shall  he  find  faith 
on  the  earth  ? . 141 


IX. 

2  Kings  17,  33. — They  feared  the  Lord,  and  served  their  own 
gods, . 161 


X. 

Philippians  4,  13. — I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
strengtheneth  me, . 183 


XI. 

Psalm  51,  V. — Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean;  wash 
me,  and  I  shall  be  Avhiter  than  snow,  .  .  .  .  .199 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


w 

O 


PAGE 

XII. 

Luke  13,  8.  (and  5.) — Except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise 
perish, . 213 


XIII. 

Isaiah  53,  3. — He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men,  .  .  .  235 


XIV. 

Hebrews  11,  10. — He  looked  for  a  city  which  hath  foundations, 
whose  builder  and  maker  is  God,  ......  252 

XV. 

1  Thessalonians  5,  25. — Brethren,  pray  for  us,  .  .  ^  .  .274 


XVI. 

Kevelation  14,  12. — Here  is  the  patience  of  the  saints;  here 
are  they  that  keep  the  commandments  of  God  and  the  faith 
of  Jesus, . 294 


XVIT. 

2  Timothy  2,  0. — The  word  of  God  is  not  bound,  .  .  .  309 


XVIII. 

Psalm  8,  1.  9. — 0  Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy  name  in 
all  the  earth ! . .  .  .831 


XIX. 

John  17,  3, — This  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  thee,  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  thou  hast  sent,  .  .  853 

XX. 

Psalm  51,  17. — The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit :  a  broken 
and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise,  .  .  3G8 


6 


CONTENTS  OF  VOLUME  II. 


PAGU 

XXI. 

James  1,  2-8. — My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into 
clivers  temptations ;  knowing  this,  that  the  trying  of  your  faith 
worketh  patience.  But  let  patience  have  her  perfect  work, 
that  ye  may  be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing.  If  any 
of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,  that  giveth  to  all 
men  liberally,  and  upbraideth  not ;  and  it  shall  be  given 
him.  But  let  him  ask  in  faith,  nothing  wavering:  for  he 
that  Avavereth  is  like  a  wave  of  the  sea  driven  with  the  wind 
and  tossed.  For  let  not  that  man  think  that  he  shall  receive 
any  thing  of  the  Lord.  A  double-minded  man  is  unstable  in 
all  his  ways,  ....  * . 891 


XXII. 

Isaiah  5,  20.^Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil ; 
that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ;  that  put 
bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter, . 409 


SERMONS. 


I. 


Ephesians  5,  14. — Awake  thou  that  steepest,  and  arise  from  the 
dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light. 

If  we  would  profit  bj  tbe  reading  of  tlie  Scrip¬ 
tures,  we  must  not  take  partial,  superficial  views  of 
them.  We  must  not  be  governed  too  much  by  the 
form  in  which  the  truth  is  clothed.  If  that  form  be 
poetical,  we  must  not  regard  the  passage  as  mere 
poetry  ;  or  if  parabolical,  as  mere  parable ;  or  if  his¬ 
torical,  as  nothing  more  than  history.  In  like  manner 
it  would  be  a  serious  mistake  to  regard  the  devotional 
jiarts  of  Scripture  as  mere  vehicles  of  individual  sen¬ 
timent.  But  the  error  of  this  kind,  into  which  we 
are  most  ajit  to  fall,  has  reference  to  the  doctrinal  and 
hortatory  parts  of  Scripture.  Our  knowledge  of  the 
doctrines  of  the  Bible  will  be  small,  if  we  de¬ 
rive  it  wholly  from  the  formal  doctrinal  propositions 
which  the  book  contains.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
our  views  of  Christian  duty  must  be  limited,  if  they 
are  formed  exclusively  upon  the  strictly  preceptive 


■  V-* 


8 


SERMONS. 


parts  of  Scripture.  The  truth  is,  that  the  doctrinal 
and  practical  run  constantly  into  each  other.  Every 
doctrinal  statement  involves  a  precept,  and  every  ex¬ 
hortation  involves  doctrinal  instruction.  Eor  exam¬ 
ple,  in  the  doctrine,  that  except  a  man  be  born  again 
he  cannot  see  the  kingdom  of  God,  what  a  lesson  do 
we  learn  as  to  our  own  interest  and  duty.  "What 
could  be  a  stronger  exhortation  to  the  duty  of  seeking 
admittance  to  God’s  kingdom  by  means  of  the  new 
birth  ?  As  an  opjDOsite  example,  take  the  text  which 
I  have  read.  It  consists  entirely  of  an  exhortation 
with  a  promise  to  encourage  the  performance.  And 
yet  it  is  full  of  doctrinal  instruction.  While  it  for¬ 
mally  does  nothing  more  than  call  us  to  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  certain  duties,  it  impliedly  teaches  us  truths 
to  be  believed.  And  as  truth  is  in  order  to  goodness, 
it  is  vain  to  expect  that  men  will  practise  the  pre¬ 
ceptive  part  which  lies  upon  the  surface,  without  com¬ 
prehending  and  believing  the  doctrinal  part  which 
lies  back  of  it. 

In  order  to  illustrate  this  whole  statement,  let  us 
discriminate  between  the  doctrinal  and  practical  ele¬ 
ments  combined  in  the  text,  and  inquire  first  what  it 
calls  us  to  believe,  and  then  what  it  calls  us  to  do. 
The  doctrinal  lessons  which  it  calls  us  to  believe  may 
be  reduced  to  two.  It  teaches  us,  first,  what  is  our 
natural  condition ;  and  second,  how  it  maybe  changed. 
Let  us  look  at  both  in  order. 

The  text  impliedly  describes  our  state  by  several 
figures,  all  of  which  are  natural  and  intelligible.  It 
describes  it,  in  the  first  place,  as  a  state  of  darkness. 
I  read  this  doctrine  in  the  last  clause  of  the  verse ; 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


9 


and  Clirist  sliall  give  tliee  liglit.  If  the  change  here 
spoken  of  was  to  consist  in  the  imparting  of  light, 
then  the  previous  condition  of  the  sonl  was  one  of 
darkness.  This  figure  is  so  natural  and  common  in 
the  Scriptures  that  it  needs  no  explanation.  Light  in 
the  external  world  is  the  element  or  medium  hj  which 
we  see  other  objects.  Darkness  precludes  light,  not 
by  extinguishing  the  sense,  but  by  rendering  it  use¬ 
less.  So  spiritual  darkness  destroys  our  power  of 
discerning  spiritual  objects,  not  by  impairing  the 
substance  of  the  soul,  nor  by  destroying  any  of  its 
faculties,  but  by  rendering  them  ineflicient  and  un¬ 
available,  Tlie  obj  ects  are  still  there ;  and  the  nat¬ 
ural  powers  of  the  soul  are  there ;  but  darkness  cuts 
off  all  connection  between  them,  and  therefore  it  is  as 
insensible  to  spiritual  objects,  as  if  they  had  no  exist¬ 
ence,  or  as  if  itself  had  no  capacity  to  see  them. 

This,  at  least,  is  the  case  just  so  far  as  the  spiritual 
darkness  reaches ;  but  in  order  to  present  the  case 
exactly,  three  gradations  may  be  stated,  three  degrees 
of  darkness,  as  it  affects  the  soul  and  its  perceptions. 
The  first  and  highest  is  that  which  has  been  men¬ 
tioned,  and  in  which  the  soul  has  no  perception  at  all 
of  spiritual  objects  or  the  things  of  God,”  whicli  are, 
to  it,  as  though  they  were  not.  The  second  degree 
is  that  in  which  it  sees  the  objects  as  existing,  but  is 
blind  to  their  distinguishing  qualities  and  relative 
proportions.  The  third  is  that  in  which  the  qualities 
are  seen,  but  not  appreciated ;  they  are  seen  to  exist, 
but  not  seen  to  be  excellent  or  the  reverse.  This,  if 
I  may  use  so  inaccurate  a  phrase,  is  not  so  much  a 
darkness  of  the  mind  as  of  the  heart ;  a  blindness  of 


10 


SERMONS. 


the  affections  as  to  spiritual  objects.  ]^ow  it  is  not 
necessary,  for  our  present  purpose,  to  make  nice  dis¬ 
tinctions  as  to  the  existence  of  either  of  these  degrees 
of  darkness  in  different  cases.  They  may  all  co-exist 
in  the  same  case,  bnt  with  respect  to  different  objects. 
There  are  some  things  of  a  spiritual  and  religions  na¬ 
ture,  of  which  the  natural  man  may  form  distinct 
ideas,  and  about  which  he  may  reason,  i.  e.  about 
their  existence  and  their  attributes.  But  he  is  no 
more  able  to  perceive  or  feel  their  excellence,  than  a 
blind  man  to  enjoy  varieties  of  colour.  Well,  there 
are  things  of  a  still  higher  order  which  the  natural 
man  may  see  to  be  real ;  but  he  not  only  cannot  see 
the  absolute  or  comparative  excellence  of  their  attri¬ 
butes,  he  cannot  see  the  attributes  themselves.  The 
objects  are  to  him  a  confused  maze  without  definite 
figures  or  proportions.  He  sees  them  as  trees  v/alk- 
ing.  And  above  these  there  are  others  of  the  high¬ 
est  excellence  which  he  neither  appreciates  as  excel¬ 
lent,  nor  recognizes  as  possessing  an  existence.  He 
is  blind  to  them.  So  far  as  he  is  affected  by  them, 
they  might  as  well  not  be.  And  as  these  last  are 
things  which  must  be  known,  in  order  to  salvation, 
it  matters  little  what  imperfect  vision  he  may  have  of 
other  matters.  His  darkness  may  be  described  as 
total,  because  it  destroys  his  view  of  those  things 
without  which  the  sight  of  others  avails  nothing.  In 
this  sense  our  state  by  nature  is  a  state  of  total  dark¬ 
ness. 

How  darkness  affects  only  the  sense  of  sight.  A 
man  may  grope  in  darkness,  he  may  feel  his  way, 
and  he  may  judge  of  what  he  cannot  see,  by  hearing, 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


11 


smell,  and  taste.  Siicli  a  condition  is  indeed  incom 
venient,  but  it  does  not  destroy  the  man’s  percep¬ 
tions.  If,  then,  spiritual  darkness  is  analogous  to  nat¬ 
ural,  though  it  impair  the  comfort  of  the  soul  by 
blinding  its  eyes,  it  may  leave  it  other  means  of 
knowino*  that  which  must  be  known  in  order  to  sal- 

O 

vation.  But  observe :  a  man  can  grope  his  way  and 
use  his  other  senses  to  advantage  only  when  awake. 
There  are  somnambulists,  indeed,  but  as  a  general  fact, 
the  man  who  contrives  to  live  in  safety,  though  in 
darkness,  must  be  wide  awake. 

But  alas !  our  text  teaches  us  that  our  spiritual 
state  is  not  only  a  state  of  darkness,  but  a  state  of 
sleep.  This  I  infer  from  the  command  in  the  first 
clause :  Awake  thou  that  steepest,  hlow  sleep  is 
more  than  darkness.  Darkness  is  included  in  it.  To 
him  who  is  asleep  the  external  world  is  dark.  But 
what  is  there  besides  implied  in  sleep  ?  The  man 
who  is  asleep  has  his  senses  sealed ;  not  his  sight 
merely,  but  his  other  senses.  External  objects  are 
to  him  as  though  they  were  not.  So  to  the  sleeping 
soul,  all  that  lies  beyond  this  life  and  its  interests,  is 
veiled  from  view.  It  might  as  well  not  be.  But 
while  the  senses  of  the  sleeper  arc  suspended,  his 
iinaofination  is  awake  and  active.  The  more  insen- 

O 

sible  he  is  of  that  which  really  surrounds  him,  the 
more  prolific  is  his  fancy  in  ideal  objects.  Though 
dead  to  the  every-day  world,  he  is  alive  to  an  imagi¬ 
nary  world.  So  powerful  is  tlie  illusion,  and* so  vivid 
the  creations  of  the  fancy,  that  lie  lives  whole  years 
in  a  single  hour,  a  lifetime  in  a  night.  Our  spiritual 
state  is  also  one  of  dreams.  The  life  of  the  natural 


12 


SERMONS. 


man  is  but  a  dream.  He  sees,  lie  bears,  be  feels ;  but 
tbe  objects  of  bis  bearing,  sight,  and  feeling,  are 
imaginary.  They  are  either  wholly  fictitious,  or  dis¬ 
torted  and  falsified  by  tbe  imagination.  That  tbe  nn- 
regenerate  man  enjoys  a  certain  kind  of  pleasure,  is 
not  more  wonderful  than  that  tbe  dreamer  has  bis 
pleasures  too.  That  tbe  one  despises  tbe  enjoyments 
of  religion  is  no  more  surprising  than  tbe  other  is 
unwilling  to  exchange  tbe  joys  of  sleep  for  tbe  real¬ 
ities  of  waking  life.  In  either  case  the  j  udgment  is 
perverted  or  suspended.  Who  does  not  know  that  in 
our  dreams  we  forju  opinions  and  conclusions  which 
to  our  waking  minds  appear  absurd ;  and  yet  while 
we  are  dreaming,  we  have  no  suspicion  that  they 
want  consistency  or  truth.  lYby  should  we  wonder 
then  that  souls,  which  are  asleep,  form  opinions  so 
extravagant,  so  groundless,  so  preposterous,  and  con¬ 
fidently  bold  them,  till  tbe  grace  of  God  awakens 
them  and  shows  them  their  own  folly  ?  Here  let  us 
learn  too  tbe  absurdity  of  yielding  our  own  judg¬ 
ments,  if  enlightened  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  tbe 
contempt  or  opposition  of  the  sleeping  world  around 
us.  Will  any  sane  man  let  bis  judgment  in  impor¬ 
tant  matters  of  tbe  present  life  be  atfected  by  tbe 
babble  of  one  talking  in  bis  sleep. 

I  have  named  as  points  of  similarity  between  nat¬ 
ural  and  spiritual  sleep,  tbe  inaction  of  tbe  senses,  the 
indulgence  of  tbe  fancy,  and  tbe  suspension  of  tbe 
judgment.  Let  me  add  the  inactivity  of  the  whole 
man,  as  to  external  things;  tbe  sorrows,  joys,  and 
business  of  tbe  world  around  him.  Tbe  natural 
sleeper  is  not  more  completely  paralyzed  for  secular 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


13 


concerns,  tlian  the  soiil  asleep  in  sin  is  for  the  hnsi- 
ness  of  eternity.  The  existence  of  the  sleeper  is  a 
blank  in  either  case.  This,  then,  is  the  meaning  of 
the  text,  when  it  describes  ns  as  sunk  in  sleep  as  well 
as  wrapped  in  darkness.  Not  only  are  onr  eyes  sealed 
to  the  truth,  and  to  onr  own  condition,  bnt  we  are 
the  subjects  of  perpetual  illnsion.  Darkness  alone 
would  be  a  mere  negation ;  bnt  a  darkness  full  of 
dreams  and  visions  is  a  positive  infliction.  It  mat¬ 
ters  not  that  the  illusions  are  of  a  pleasing  nature. 
That  can  only  aggravate  the  pain  of  onr  awaking. 
Did  yon  ever  forget  any  of  the  pains  of  real  life  in 
a  delightful  dream  ?  And  do  yon  not  remember  the 
convulsive  pang  with  which  the  truth  rushed  back 
npon  yonr  waking  thonghts  ?  And  can  yon  imagine 
that  the  anguish  will  be  less  when  the  dream  of  a 
whole  lifetime  is  abruptly  broken  ?  Or  if  yon  know 
what  it  is  to  be  aronsed  by  harsh  and  grating  noises 
from  a  pleasant  dream,  do  yon  snppose  that  yonr  long 
dream  will  be  agreeably  dissolved  by  the  blast  of  the 
great  trumpet?  It  is  related  by  one  of  those  wlio 
witnessed  and  experienced  a  late  explosion,  that  when 
it  occurred  he  was  asleep,  and  that  his  first  sensation 
was  a  pleasant  one,  as  thongh  he  had  been  flying 
throngh  the  air.  He  opened  his  eyes,  and  he  was  in 
the  sea !  May  there  not  be  something  analogous  to 
this  in  the  sensations  of  the  sinner,  who  dies  with  his 
soul  asleep,  and  soars,  as  he  imagines,  towards  the 
skies,  bnt  instantaneonsly  awakes  amidst  the  roar  of 
tempests  and  the  lash  of  waves,  upon  the  ocean  of 
God’s  wratli  ?  The  Lord  preserve  ns  all  from  snch  a 
waking,  yet  it  is  to  this  that  onr  condition  tends — it 


14 


SERMONS. 


is  a  state  of  darkness  and  a  state  of  sleep.  Accord¬ 
ing  to  the  ancients,  Sleep  is  the  brother  of  Death ; 
and  the  resemblance  is  too  obvious  to  be  overlooked. 

In  all  the  negative  attributes  of  sleep  which  have 
been  mentioned,  death  resembles  it.  In  death  the 
senses  are  effectnallv  sealed  ;  the  functions  of  the 
judgment  are  suspended,  and  the  active  powers  of 
the  man  are  in  abeyance.  It  is  frequently  not  easy 
to  distinguish  sleep  from  death.  The  repose  is  so 
profound,  the  frame  so  motionless,  that  one  who  looks 
upon  it  feels  that  Sleep  is  indeed  the  brother  of 
Death.  •  But  I  need  not  say  that  death  is  more  than 
sleep.  And  wherein  is  the  difference  ?  He  that 
sleeps  may  wake  again,  and  the  suspension  of  his 
senses  and  his  judgment  may  be  terminated  by  his 
simply  starting  out  of  sleep.  But  in  death,  the  intel¬ 
lectual  and  bodily  inaction  are  continuous  and  per¬ 
manent.  There  have  been  instances  in  which  the 
body  washed  and  dressed  for  burial,  has  amazed  its 
watchers,  by  resuming  its  vitality  ;  but  in  such  cases 
the  death  was  an  apparent  one.  The  man  once  dead 
never  starts  again  to  life  by  a  convulsive  effort.  As 
the  tree  falls,  so  it  lies. 

In  these  two  points  Death  differs  from  his  brother ; 
the  suspension  of  the  faculties  is  permanent,  and  there 
is  no  power  of  self-resuscitation.  How  the  text  teaches 
that  the  soul  by  nature  is  not  only  dark  and  asleep, 
but  dead.  It  says  not  only,  Awake  thou  that  steep¬ 
est  !  ”  but,  “  Arise  from  the  dead  !  ”  And  in  every 
point  that  has  been  mentioned,  this  death  of  the  soul 
is  like  that  of  the  body.  It  is  sleep  rendered  perma¬ 
nent,  as  to  the  suspension  of  our  ordinary  functions; 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


15 


it  is  a  sleep  too  sound  to  be  disturbed,  a  sleep  from 
wbicb  no  one  rises  of  bimself,  refreshed  in  feeling  and 
renewed  in  strength.  Even  with  respect  to  dreams 
death  may  be  described  as  a  continued  sleep. 

“For  in  that  sleep  of  death  what  dreams  may  come, 

When  we  have  shuffled  off  this  mortal  coil, 

Must  give  us  pause.” 

Blit  there  is  one  distinction  between  sleep  and 
death,  whether  natural  or  spiritual,  that  must  not  be 
overlooked.  In  natural  sleep,  although  the  senses 
are  inactive,  and  the  judgment  in  abeyance,  and  the 
whole  man  dead  as  to  external  things,  the  body  is 
still  under  the  conservative  dominion  of  the  principle 
of  life.  That  mysterious  power  holds  the  elements  of 
humanity  in  healthful  combination,  and  the  man 
still  lives.  But  in  the  sleep  of  death,  this  antiseptic 
energy  is  gone;  the  harmonious  combination  is  dis¬ 
solved  ;  the  parts  all  tend  to  dissolution,  and  the 
whole  frame  hastens  to  putrescence.  This  is  a  subject 
too  familiar  and  too  painful  to  be  dwelt  ujion  at  large. 
It  is  sufficient  to  observe  that  on  this  point  also  the 
analogy  holds  good.  The  spiritual  death  to  which 
we  are  all  heirs,  is  something  more  than  a  negation 
of  activity.  It  might  be  said  of  the  soul,  as  the  dis¬ 
ciples  said  of  Lazarus  :  If  he  sleeps  he  shall  do  well : 
he  may  arise  from  this  lethargic  state  to  life  and  ac¬ 
tion.  But  in  spiritual  death  there  is  a  constant  ten¬ 
dency  to  moral  dissolution  ;  or  rather,  since  this  ten¬ 
dency  begins  to  show  itself  as  soon  as  we  are  born,  it 
is  forever  growing,  the  majority  of  men  exhibit  not  a 
mere  approach  to  it,  but  actual  putrefaction.  “They 


16 


SERMONS. 


are  altogether  become  filthy.”  If  onr  eyes  could  be 
unsealed  and  disabused  of  all  illusion,  we  should  see 
ourselves  to  be  by  nature  inmates  of  a  charnel-house, 
surrounded  by  the  shapeless  remnants  of  dissolved 
humanity,  inhaling  every  moment  the  dank  atmos¬ 
phere  of  death,  and  feeling  in  our  own  frames  the 
first  gnawings  of  the  worm  that  breeds  corruption. 
Yes,  our  state  by  nature  is  not  only  one  of  sleep,  but 
one  of  death  and  putrefaction. 

This  might  seem  to  be  all ;  but  we  must  take 
another  step,  and  one  of  great  importance.  If  men 
are  convinced  merely  that  their  condition  is  a 
wretched  and  degraded  one,  they  are  prone  to  feel 
a  sort  of  satisfaction  in  the  fact,  as  if  their  misery 
entitled  them  to  pity  and  respect.  This  absurd  and 
pernicious  feeling  springs  entirely  from  the  false  as¬ 
sumption  that  our  wretched  state  by  nature  is  a 
blameless  one  ;  that  our  depravity  is  not  so  much  our 
fault  as  our  misfortune.  Hence  you  will  hear  men 
converse  fiuently  about  their  own  corrupt  and  fallen 
state,  who  would  repel  with  rage  any  specific  charge 
involving  moral  guilt.  To  do  away  this  false  impres¬ 
sion,  we  have  only  to  observe  that,  according  to  onr 
text,  the  state  of  man  by  nature  is  not  alone  one  of 
darkness,  sleep,  and  death,  but  one  of  guilt.  This  is 
implied  in.  the  whole  exhortation  of  the  text.  Tlie 
sleeper  is  evidently  called  on  to  awake,  as  that  which 
he  was  bound  to  do  ;  and  the  dead  man  is  summoned 
to  arise,  as  though  he  had  no  right  to  remain  in  that 
condition.  Every  exhortation  to  perform  a  duty  in¬ 
volves  a  condemnation  of  its  iieHect  as  sinful. 

O 

But  the  sinfulness  of  that  estate  whereinto  we  are 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


17 


fallen,  is  evinced  not  merely  by  the  form  of  speech 
which  the  apostle  uses.  It  is  also  apparent  from  the 
nature  of  the  case.  The  will  of  God  is  to  ns  the  rule 
of  right,  and  every  departure  of  onr  will  from  his,  is 
a  departure  from  strict  rectitude,  and  therefore  sin. 
How  the  spiritual  darkness,  sleep,  and  death  before 
described,  are  nothing  more  than  figurative  statements 
of  our  deadly  alienation  from  the  love  of  God,  the 
defection  of  our  will  from  his,  and  consequently  our 
exceeding  sinfulness.  There  is  no  true  test  of  right 
and  wrong  to  which  we  can  refer  ourselves,  that  will 
not  show  our  natural  condition  to  be  one  of  awful 
guilt  as  well  as  misery. 

And  if  a  state  of  guilt,  it  is  a  state  of  danger. 
For  guilt  is  our  exposure  to  the  wrath  of  God  as  a 
consequence  of  sin.  It  may  be  said,  however,  that 
this  statement  is  at  variance  with  the  figurative  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  text ;  for  though  a  state  of  darkness  or 
of  sleep  may  be  dangerous,  a  state  of  death  can 
scarcely  be  so  called.  The  evils  of  this  life  terminate 
in  death,  which  cannot  therefore  be  called  dangerous. 
But  danger  may  be  predicated  properly  of  all  the  sit¬ 
uations  which  are  figuratively  set  forth  in  the  text, 
because  they  all  admit  of  increase  and  progressive 
aggravation.  Dark  as  the  soul  is,  it  may  yet  be 
darker.  It  admits,  as  we  have  seen,  of  different  gra¬ 
dations.  To  some  objects  we  are  totally  blind. 
Others  we  see  imperfectly,  and  others  still  distinctly, 
but  without  a  just  appreciation  of  their  real  attributes. 
How,  by  continuance  in  a  state  of  darkness,  our  per¬ 
ceptions  of  this  last  class  may  become  as  faint  as  those 
of  the  preceding ;  and  ultimately  both  degrees  of  twi- 


18 


SERMONS. 


light  may  be  merged  in  midnight  darkness ;  a  dark¬ 
ness  which  not  only  destroys  vision,  hnt  which  may 
be  felt,  deadening  the  senses  and  benumbing  all  the 
faculties.  There  is  something  dreadful  in  the  thought 
of  such  a  change,  even  in  relation  to  the  bodily  per¬ 
ceptions.  To  see  one  source  of  reflected  light  after 
another  quenched,  and  at  last  to  witness  the  extinc¬ 
tion  of  the  sun  itself,  and  the  annihilation  of  all  light, 
is  terrible  enough.  But  not  so  terrible  in  truth  as 
the  removal  of  all  spiritual  light,  and  the  gradual  ad¬ 
vance  of  darkness,  till,  like  a  funeral  pall,  it  over¬ 
spreads  the  universe,  confounding  all  distinctions,  and 
commingling  all  objects  in  the  chaos  of  a  night  that 
has  no  twilight  and  no  morning.  Oh,  it  is  one  thing 
to  imagine  such  a  state  of  things,  while  actually  in 
possession  of  a  thousand  radiating  lustrous  points,  im¬ 
parting  the  reflected  light  of  heaven  to  our  souls  ;  but 
quite  another  thing  to  see  them  all  grow  dark  in 
quick  succession,  and  to  feel  the  darkness  creeping  to 
our  inmost  souls. 

If  such  a  change  be  possible,  then  surely  a  state 
of  spiritual  darkness  is  a  state  of  danger.  And  is  not 
spiritual  sleep  likewise  a  state  of  danger  ?  May  not 
that  sleep  become  sounder  and  sounder,  and  the 
sleeper  more  and  more  insensible  of  all  surrounding 
objects  ?  May  not  the  chances  of  his  ever  w^aking  be¬ 
come  less  and  less,  until  the  case  is  desperate  ?  Have 
you  not  heard  of  sick  men  who  have  fallen,  to  ap¬ 
pearance,  into  sweet  and  gentle  slumber,  the  supposed 
precursor  of  returning  health,  and  never  waked  again  ? 
Oh,  there  are  doubtless  many  spiritual  invalids  who 
come  to  a  like  end.  After  a  life  of  irreligion  and  of 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


19 


vice,  they  experience  a  few  pangs  of  compunction, 
and  subside  into  a  state  of  calm  quiescence,  equally 
free,  from  tbe  excesses  of  gross  sin,  and  tlie  positive 
exercises  of  a  renewed  heart.  In  this  soft  slumber 
they  remain  amidst  the  thunders  of  the  law  and  the 
gospel,  confident  of  their  own  salvation,  and  un¬ 
moved  by  what  is  said  to  men  as  sinners.  And  in 
this  somnolent  condition  they  remain,  until  the  taking 
of  rest  in  sleep  is  followed  by  the  sleep  of  death.  'No 
waking  interval  seems  to  show  them  their  true  situa¬ 
tion,  and  they  are  not  undeceived  until  the  first  fiash 
of  eternal  daylight  forces  their  eyes  open. 

Is  not  spiritual  sleep  a  state  of  danger  then  ?  All 
this  will  be  readily  conceded,  but  the  question  still  re¬ 
curs  :  how  can  death  be  properly  a  state  of  danger  ?  A 
man  in  the  dark  may  be  exposed  to  peril  on  the  margin 
of  a  precipice,  and  so  may  he  who  is  asleep  upon  the 
top  of  a  mast ;  for  both  are  exposed  to  sudden  death. 
But  when  already  dead,  where  is  the  danger  ?  Is  not 
death  a  state  of  safety  as  to  temporal  perils  ?  The 
answer  to  this  question  involves  a  striking  difference 
between  natural  and  spiritual  death.  The  death  of 
the  body,  as  it  simply  puts  an  end  to  all  the  vital 
functions,  is  an  absolute  and  changeless  state,  admit¬ 
ting  no  gradations ;  whereas  spiritual  death  is  some¬ 
thing  positive,  and  constantly  progressive.  The  man 
who  died  yesterday  is  just  as  dead  to-day  as  he  will 
be  to-morrow.  But  the  dead  soul  becomes  more  dead 
every  day  and  every  hour.  The  process  of  corruption 
never  ceases,  and,  if  the  soul  continues  dead,  never 
will  cease.  The  worm  that  feeds  upon  the  carcass  of 
the  dead  soul  is  a  worm  that  never  dies,  and  the  fire 


20 


SERMONS. 


that  decomposes  it  is  never  quenched.  What  we  call 
spiritual  death  in  this  world  sinks  from  one  degree  of 
putrefaction  to  another,,  till  it  gets  beyond  the  reach, 
not  only  of  restorative,  but  of  embalming  processes, 
until  it  is  resolved  into  eternal  death.  And  even  in 
that  lowest  pit  there  is  a  lower  pit  of  putrefaction  and 
decay,  opening  one  beneath  another  into  that  abyss 
from  which  reason  and  imagination  shrink  with  equal 
horror.  Yes,  the  first  is  to  the  second  death  as  a 
mere  point  of  time  to  all  eternity.  The  soul  that  dies 
once,  dies  forever,  nay  is  forever  dying ;  not  as  in  the 
first  death  with  an  agony  of  moments  or  of  hours  in 
its  duration,  but  with  a  throe  of  anguish  which  shall 
blend  with  all  the  dying  soul’s  sensations  through 
eternity.  And  oh,  what  an  eternity  !  each  thought  a 
pang,  and  every  respiration  a  mere  dying  gasp  !  This 
is  the  second  death :  and  will  you  say  that  spirit¬ 
ual  death,  which  tends  to  this,  is  not  a  state  of 
danger  ? 

If  it  be  true  that  our  natural  state  is  one  of  dark¬ 
ness,  sleep,  death,  guilt,  and  danger,  no  one  who 
really  believes  it  to  be  so,  can  fail  to  be  aroused  to 
the  necessity  of  doing  something  to  obtain  deliverance. 
The  real  ground  of  men’s  indifference  to  this  matter 
is  their  unbelief.  They  do  not  really  believe  what 
they  are  told  as  to  their  state  by  nature.  Where  this 
faith  really  exists,  it  shows  itself  in  anxious  fears,  if 
not  in  active  efforts.  And  the  soul’s  first  imjDulse  is, 
to  break  the  spell  which  binds  it,  by  its  own  strength. 
It  resolves  that  the  darkness  shall  be  light,  that  the 
sleep  of  sin  shall  be  disturbed,  and  that  there  shall  be 
a  resurrection  from  the  death  of  sin ;  its  guilt  shall  be 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


21 


atoned  for,  and  its  dangers  all  escaped.  Sucli  resolu¬ 
tions  always  have  the  same  result — a  total  failure  in 
the  object  aimed  at,  and  an  aggravation  of  the  evils 
to  be  remedied.  To  save  you  from  the  pain  of  a 
severe  disappointment,  let  me  remind  you,  that  ac¬ 
cording  to  our  text,  the  state  of  man  by  nature  is  not 
only  one  of  darkness,  and  sleep,  and  death,  and  guilt, 
and  danger,  but  of  helplessness.  I  say,  according  to 
the  text,  for  although  this  doctrine  is  not  taught  ex¬ 
plicitly,  I  read  it  in  the  promise  added  to  the  exhorta¬ 
tion,  Christ  shall  give  thee  light.”  It  might,  indeed, 
at  first  sight,  seem,  as  if  our  compliance  with  the  ex¬ 
hortation  were  a  condition  of  the  promise  which  is 
added.  And  so  indeed  it  is,  but  like  other  conditions 
ill  the  system  of  free  grace,  it  is  dependent  upon  that 
which  seems  dependent  upon  it.  Eepentance  and 
faith  are  conditions  of  salvation;  but  the  author  of 
our  salvation  is  the  giver  of  repentance,  the  author 
and  finisher  of  our  faith.  It  seems  as  if  God,  in  divine 
condescension  to  the  feelings  of  poor  sinners,  had 
thought  fit  to  clothe  his  own  gratuitous  bestowments 
in  the  guise  of  acts  to  be  performed  by  us.  He  for¬ 
gives  us  freely  if  we  repent  and  believe,  but  we  can 
just  as  well  make  expiation  for  our  sins,  as  repent  and 
believe  without  divine  assistance.  It  is  as  if  a  father 
should  offer  to  forgive  his  child’s  offence,  on  condition 
that  he  pay  a  certain  sum,  and  should  then  produce 
the  sum  required  from  his  own  purse.  When  the 
text  says,  therefore,  Awake  thou  that  sleepest,  and 
arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light,” 
the  analogy  of  gospel  truth  constrains  us  to  believe, 
that  so  the  light  which  is  jiromised  in  the  last  clause 


22 


SERMONS. 


is  the  means,  the  only  means,  by  which  the  exhorta¬ 
tion  can  be  possibly  complied  with. 

ISTor  is  it  only  from  the  text  that  this  appears.  It 
results  from  the  very  nature  of  the  state  in  question. 
Would  it  not  have  been  a  bitter  irony  to  call  upon 
the  Egyptians  to  strike  light  out  of  the  palpable  ob¬ 
scurity  in  which  they  were  involved  ?  Would  it  not 
have  been  worse  than  irony  to  wait  till  Lazarus  should 
raise  himself?  Above  all,  would  you  tantalize  the 
breaker  of  God’s  holy  law  by  promises  of  pardon,  on 
condition  of  his  perfect  obedience  for  the  future,  and 
satisfactory  atonement  for  the  past?  Does  he  not 
know  that  every  etfort  for  the  expiation  of  his  guilt 
adds  something  to  its  depth  and  its  enormity?  That 
having  his  face  naturally  turned  from  God,  the  fur¬ 
ther  he  proceeds,  the  more  remote  he  is  from  God, 
and  every  impulse  which  he  feels,  instead  of  bringing 
his  soul  nearer,  drives  it  further  from  the  centre  of 
perfection  ?  What  a  condition !  If  it  were  possible 
to  sit  still  and  do  nothing,  we  should  surely  perish 
through  our  own  neglect.  And  if  we  exercise  our 
strength,  we  only  stir  up  a  centrifugal  impetus  which 
drives  us  to  perdition !  Surely  this  is  helplessness  in 
the  highest  sense.  And  I  appeal  to  any  one  who  ever 
was  aAvakened  to  a  sense  of  sin  and  the  desire  of  sal¬ 
vation,  whether  his  own  heart  does  not  respond  to  my 
description.  If  it  does,  we  have  experimental  con- 
tirmation  of  the  scriptural  doctrine,  that  our  state  by 
nature  is  not  only  miserable,  dangerous,  and  guilty, 
but  pre-eminently  helpless. 

But  will  not  this  doctrine  tend  to  paralyze  the 
efforts  of  the  sinner  for  salvation  ?  And  what  then  ? ' 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


23 


The  more  completely  his  self-righteous  strength  is 
paralyzed,  the  better.  'No  man  can  trust  God  and 
himself  at  once.  Your  self-reliance  must  be  destroyed, 
or  it  will  destroy  you.  But  if,  by  a  paralysis  of  effort, 
be  intended  a  stagnation  of  feeling,  and  indifference 
to  danger,  I  reply  that  this  doctrine  has  no  tendency 
to  breed  it.  Suppose  it  should  be  suddenly  announced 
to  this  assembly  that  a  deadly  malady  had  just  ap¬ 
peared,  and  had  begun  to  sweep  off‘  thousands  in  its 
course ;  and  that  the  only  possibility  of  safety  de¬ 
pended  on  the  use  of  a  specific  remedy,  simple  and 
easy  in  its  application,  and  already  within  the  reach 
of  every  individual,  who  had  nothing  to  do  at  any 
moment  but  to  use  it,  and  infallibly  secure  himself 
against  infection.  And  suppose  that,  while  your 
minds  were  resting  on  this  last  assurance,  it  should  be 
authoritatively  contradicted,  and  the  fact  announced, 
with  evidence  not  to  be  gainsaid,  that  this  specific, 
simple  and  infallibly  successful,  was  beyond  the  reach 
I  of  every  person  present,  and  could  only  be  applied 
i  by  a  superior  power.  I  put  it  to  yourselves,  which  of 
'  these  statements  would  produce  security,  and  which 
;  alarm  ?  'Which  would  lead  you  to  fold  your  hands  in 
j  indolent  indifference,  and  which  would  rouse  you  to 
'  an  agonizing  struggle  for  the  means  of  safety  ?  I 
I  speak  as  unto  wise  men  :  judge  ye  what  I  say.  Oh, 

I  my  friends,  if  there  is  any  cure  for  spiritual  sloth  and 
false  security,  it  is  a  heartfelt  faith  in  the  necessity  of 
'  superhuman  help.  The  man  who  makes  his  helpless- 
'  ness  a  pretext  for  continuance  in  sin,  whatever  he 
I  may  say,  does  not  really  believe  that  he  is  helpless. 

^  No  man  believes  it  till  he  knows  it  by  experience. 


■I 


24 


SERMONS. 


Tlie  firmest  believers  in  man’s  plenary  ability,  are 
men  wliose  hearts  are  bard  through  the  deceitfnlness 
of  sin.  Those,  on  the  contrary,  who  have  been  taught 
to  fathom  the  abyss  of  their  own  hearts,  and  who 
know  what  it  is  to  have  leaned  upon  the  reed  of  their 
own  strength  until  it  pierced  them,  will  be  forward  to 
acknowledge  that  our  state  of  nature  is  not  only  one 
of  darkness,  sleep,  death,  guilt,  and  danger,  but  of 
utter  helplessness. 

Here  we  may  pause  in  our  enumeration.  Each 
item  in  the  catalogue  has  made  our  state  by  nature 
more  degraded  and  alarming,  and  we  now  have 
reached  a  point,  beyond  which  we  need  not,  and  in¬ 
deed  cannot  advance.  Darkness  is  bad  enough,  but 
its  perils  may  be  shunned  by  men  awake.  But  we 
are  also  asleep ;  and  sleep,  though  it  suspends  our 
powers,  is  a  transient  state.  But  alas!  our  sleep  is 
the  sleep  of  death.  Yet  even  in  death  some  men  take 
pleasure,  as  a  state  admitting  of  no  further  change. 
But  our  death  is  progressive,  and  therefore  far  more 
dangerous  than  any  state  in  life.  Yet  even  here  we 
might  take  refuge  in  the  consciousness  of  our  own 
innocence,  and  draw  a  kind  of  desperate  consolation 
from  the  proud  thought  that  we  have  not  brought  this 
ruin  on  ourselves.  But  even  this  poor  consolation  is 
snatched  from  us.  Wq  are  guilty!  we  are  guilty! 
This  puts  an  end  to  all  self-pleading,  and  impels  us  to 
escape  from  a  condition  wiiicli  is  equally  miserable, 
dangerous,  and  guilty.  But  even  here  we  are  en¬ 
countered  by  a  last  conviction.  'We  are  helpless! 
we  are  helpless  !  This  is  the  death-blow  to  our  hopes, 
and  we  despair.  Yes,  despair  may  be  described  as 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


25 


tlie  conclusion  to  which  we  are  conducted  by  the  text. 
]^ot  absolute  despair,  but  that  despair  which  is  essen¬ 
tial  to  salvation.  For  there  is  salvation,  even  from 
this  lowest  depth  to  which  we  have  descended.  The 
text  teaches  us  not  only  wdiat  our  state  by  nature  is, 
but  how  it  may  be  changed.  Our  bane  and  antidote 
are  both  before  us.  And  what  is  this  great  remedy  ? 
Hear  the  answer  of  the  text :  “  Awake  thou  that 
steepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall 
give  thee  light.’’  Fight,  light  is  the  specific  for  our 
case.  And  as  light  is  the  opposite  of  darkness,  the 
description  before  given  of  our  spiritual  darkness, 
will  teach  us  what  is  signified  by  spiritual  light,  and 
W'hat  are  its  effects  upon  the  soul. 

In  the  first  place,  it  dispels  that  blindness  of  the 
heart  and  the  affections,  which  disables  us  from  seeing 
the  true  qualities  of  spiritual  objects.  That  which 
before  seemed  repulsive,  becomes  lovely :  that  which 
w^as  mean,  is  glorious.  That  which  was  pleasing  or 
i  indifferent,  is  now  seen  to  be  loathsome.  The  beauty 
i  of  holiness  and  the  ugliness  of  sin,  are  now  revealed 
'  in  their  true  colours.  Moral  and  spiritual  objects 
(  which  before  were  undefined  and  indistinct,  are  now 
j  seen  clearly,  and  invested  with  their  true  proportions. 

'  Things  which,  tlirough  the  mist  of  sin,  were  magni- 
11  fied,  distorted,  and  confused,  fall  at  once  into  their 
natural  position  and  their  real  size.  Hor  is  this  all. 
;;  The  light  which  beams  upon  ns,  not  only  rectifies  our 
I  views  of  what  we  saw  before,  but  shows  us  what  we 
'  never  saw.  We  are  like  the  prophet’s  servant,  who 
:  imagined  that  his  master  and  himself  were  left  alone, 
!  until  his  eyes  were  opened,  and  he  saw  the  mountain 

VOL.  II. — 2 


26 


SERMONS. 


to  be  filled  witli  chariots,  and  horses  of  fire.  Have 
yon  ever  read,  or  heard,  of  the  etfect  produced  upon 
the  feelings  by  the  sudden  restoration  of  the  sight  ? 
Those  objects  which  to  ns  are  too  familiar  to  affect 
ns,  are  to  the  blind  man  full  of  glory.  In  the  mo¬ 
ment  of  his  restoration,  a  whole  lifetime  of  enjoyment 
seems  to  be  concentrated.  But  what  are  these  sensa¬ 
tions  to  the  feelings  of  the  soul  wlien  "the  scales  fall 
from  its  eyes,  and  the  curtain  is  withdrawn  from  the 
spiritual  world,  and  the  intense  light  of  divine 
illumination,  with  gradual  dawn,  or  sudden  flash, 
lights  up  the  amphitheatre  by  v/hich  we  are  sur¬ 
rounded,  and  shows  us  that,  instead  of  standing  by 
ourselves  in  a  contracted  circle,' we  are  a  spectacle  to 
angels  and  to  devils,  and  spectators  of  a  universe ! 

Light,  then,  is  the  remedy  ;  but  how  shall  we  ob¬ 
tain  it?  We  are  still  driven  ba.ck  upon  our  helpless¬ 
ness.  lYe  see  that  light  we  must  have,  but  we  see 
not  how  it  can  be  kindled  by  us.  Here  the  text 
teaches  us  another  lesson.  It  teaches  us  not  only 
that  we  must  have  light,  but  that  it  must  be  given  to 
us.  Christ  shall  give  thee  light.  If  it  comes  at  all 
it  comes  as  a  free  gift.  This  harmonizes  fully  with 
the  sense  of  our  helplessness,  and  indeed  confirms  it. 
Think  not  that  I  lay  too  much  stress  upon  this  inci¬ 
dental  form  of  speech.  This  circumstance  I  hold  to 
be  essential  to  the  doctrine.  It  matters  not  how  sen¬ 
sible  we  may  be  of  the  need  of  light,  nor  how  in¬ 
tensely  w^e  may  long  for  it,  unless  we  know  that  it 
can  only  come  to  us  by  being  given.  Thousands  come 
short  of  everlasting  life,  because  they  trust  for  light 
in  sparks  of  their  own  kindling.  The  light  which  we 


EPHESIANS  5,  14. 


27 


need,  is  not  from  any  earthly  luminary.  It  is  not 
from  any  twinkling  star,  revolving  planet,  or  erratic 
comet.  It  is  from  the  sun,  the  sun  of  righteousness. 
And  where  is  he  ?  In  what  part  of  the  firmament  is 
his  tabernacle  set  ? 

This  is  the  last  question  answered  by  the  text.  It 
not  only  shows  us  that  we  must  have  light,  and  that 
this  light  must  be  given  to  us  by  another,  but  it  shows 
us  who  can  give  it — who  alone  can  give  it.  “  Awake 
thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ 
shall  give  thee  light.”  Brethren,  from  whatever  point 
you  set  out  when  you  trace  the  gospel  method  of  sal¬ 
vation,  if  you  follow  the  Scriptures,  you  will  always 
come  to  Christ.  And  that  way  of  salvation  which 
I  conducts  to  any  other  point,  is  not  the  way  for  us. 
j  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every 
i  one  that  believeth.  This  world,  to  the  believer,  is  a 
1  dark,  perplexing  labyrinth,  and  in  its  mazes  he  would 
i:  lose  himself  forever,  w^ere  it  not  that  ever  and  anon, 
at  certain  turnings  in  the  crooked  path,  he  gets  a 
glimpse  of  Calvary.  These  glimpses  may  be  transi¬ 
tory,  but  they  feed  his  hopes,  and  often  unexpectedly 
return  to  cheer  his  drooping  spirits.  Sometimes  he 
is  ready  to  despair  of  his  escape,  and  to  lie  doAvn  in 
the  darkness  of  the  labyrinth  and  die.  But  as  he 
forms  the  resolution,  an  unlooked-for  turn  presents  a 
distant  prospect,  and  beyond  all  other  objects  and 
I  above  them,  he  discerns  the  cross  and  Christ  upon  it. 
i  Look  to  Christ,  then !  look  to  him  for  light  to  dissi¬ 
pate  your  darkness — to  arouse  you  from  your  sleep, 
I  and  to  raise  you  from  the  dead  ;  for  though  these 
[  figures  are  not  carried  out  by  the  apostle,  he  obviously 


28 


SERMONS. 


means  that  the  light  here  promised  is  to  be  a  cure, 
not  only  for  our  darkness,  but  our  sleep  and  death. 
And,  indeed,  the  perception  and  enjoyment  of  light, 
implies  that  we  are  living  and  awake.  If,  then,  you 
would  have  this  sovereign  remedy  for  all  your  evils, 
look  to  Christ !  Perhaps  you  have  already  looked 
unto  him  and  been  lightened.  Oh,  then,  look  on, 
look  always  ;  for  it  is  not  enough  to  have  looked  once. 
The  believer’s  face  must  be  fixed  continually  on  this 
source  of  light,  and  fastened  there  forever.  Have  you 
not  had  your  hours  of  darkness,  nay,  your  days, 
weeks,  months  and  years  of  darkness,  even  since  you 
obtained  light  from  Christ  ?  Ah,  it  was  when  you 
turned  away  your  steadfast  gaze  from  the  pillar  of 
fire  which  went  before  you,  that  it  became  to  you  a 
pillar  of  cloud.  To  all  who  are  now  in  darkness,  I 
liold  up  the  only  source  of  spiritual  light ;  and  in  the 
ears  of  every  one  slumbering  at  ease  within  the 
Church  of  God,  I  cry  aloud,  “  Awake  thou  that  steep¬ 
est,  and  arise  from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give 
thee  light !  ” 

But  its  exhortation  is  not  only  or  chiefiy  to  the  be¬ 
liever  who  is  wrapped  in  darkness.  Its  voice  is  still 
louder  to  the  soul  asleep  in  sin,  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins,  “Awake  thou  that  steepest,  and  arise  from  the 
dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light !  ”  And  oh,  re¬ 
member  that  you  cannot  shut  your  eyes  upon  this 
light  without  an  aggravation  of  your  future  wretched¬ 
ness — without  adding  a  deeper  shade  of  blackness 
to  the  darkness  of  your  grave.  It  is  said,  that 
in  some  of  the  great  light-houses  built  on  rocks  lying 
mostly  under  water,  the  brightness  of  the  lantern 


EPHESIANS  6,  14. 


29 


attracts  multitudes  of  sea-birds,  wliicli  dart  beadlonsr 
towards  it,  like  the  moth  into  the  candle,  and  are 
violently  dashed  back  dead  into  the  sea.  And  oh,  is 
it  not  a  fearful  thought  that  the  salvation  of  the  gos¬ 
pel,  that  the  cross  of  Christ  itself,  may  be  a  living, 
yet  not  a  saving  sight — that  souls  may  be  attracted 
by  it  only  to  perdition  ?  But  that  same  radiant  lan¬ 
tern  which  sheds  its  saving  beams  upon  the  souls  of 
the  elect,  shines  no  less  brightly  upon  those  that 
perish.  But,  alas  !  instead  of  using  its  divine  light  to 
escape  the  wrath  to  come,  they  only  dash  against  it 
with  insane  hostility,  and  fall  back  stunned  into  the 
dark  'abyss  which  washes  its  foundations.  God  forbid 
that  you  or  I  should  die  so  terrible  a  death,  and  be 
lighted  to  perdition  by  that  very  blaze  which  might 
have  guided  ns  to  glory. 


II. 


Mark  14,  41. — Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your  rest :  it  is  enough,  the 
hour  is  come ;  behold,  the  Son  of  Man  is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of 
sinners. 

The  Bible  is  full  of  exliortations  to  awake  ;  but  a 
command  to  sleep  is  rare  and  paradoxical ;  so  miicli 
so,  tliat  many  interpreters  bave  cbosen  to  regard  tins 
sentence  as  a  question :  Do  you  still  sleep,  and  take 
your  rest  ?  you  bave  slept  enougb :  tbe  bour  is  come, 
bebold,  tbe  Son  of  Man  is  betrayed  into  tbe  bands  of 
sinners.  Tbis  construction  of  tbe  passage,  tbougb  it 
3d  elds  a  good  sense,  is  less  consistent  witb  tbe  form  of 
tbe  original  than  tbe  common  version,  wbicb  is  sup¬ 
ported  by  a  great  majority  of  tbe  ablest  critics. 
Yiewing  it  tberefore  as  an  exhortation,  or  at  least  a 
permission,  I  repeat  that  it  is  sometbing  rare  and  par¬ 
adoxical.  And  tbis  first  impression  is  increased  by 
tbe  reason  wbieb  is  given  for  tbe  exhortation.  Had 
tbe  language  been,  sleep  on,  and  take  3mur  rest,  1113^ 
bour  is  not  yet  come,  it  would  bave  been  at  once  in¬ 
telligible  :  but  it  is,  sleep  on  and  take  3^111’  rest,  tbe 
bour  is  come;  and  as  if  to  leave  no  doubt  that  tbe 
bour  ”  was  that  mysterious  bour  of  darkness,  towards 
wbicb  tbe  voice  of  prophecy  and  tbe  finger  of  provi- 


MARK  14,  41. 


31 


deuce  liad  been  so  long  pointing  with  incessant  pre¬ 
monition,  “behold,  tlie  Son  of ^ Man  is  betrayed  into 
tlie  bands  of  sinners.’’  IVas  there  ever  a  command  so 
strange,  supported  by  a  reason  so  much  stranger?  I 
call  your  attention  to  this  singularity,  because  we  are 
too  apt  to  overlook  these  striking  points  in  the  famil¬ 
iar  Scriptures,  and  because  I  see  wrapped  up  in  these 
remarkable  expressions,  a  rich  volume  of  instruction 
to  myself  and  to  my  hearers.  To  unroll  it,  and  deci¬ 
pher  at  least  some  of  its  most  solemn  lessons,  is  my 
present  purpose. 

From  the  very  nature  of  the  case,  however,  it  is 
not  by  metaphysical  or  logical  analysis  that  this  leaf 
in  the  book  of  life  is  to  be  rendered  legible.  So  far 
from  it,  that  I  design  to  call  in  the  aid  of  your  imag¬ 
inations  in  pursuing  my  ‘design.  I  know  that  the 
very  name  of  this  unruly  power  is  cast  out  as  evil  by 
many  sincere  Christians.  But  I  also  know  that  al¬ 
most  every  page  of  Scripture  calls  for  its  due  exercise : 
that  neither  prophecies  nor  parables  can  do  their  of¬ 
fice  without  its  assistance  ;  that  even  those  who  dread 
it  as  an  instrument  of  evil,  habitually  use  it  as  an  in¬ 
strument  of  good  ;  and  that  much  of  our  indifference 
to  the  word  of  God  arises  from  the  want  of  a  chastened 
imagination  giving  colour  and  vitality  to  what  we 
read.  But  while  I  thus  call  in  imagination  to  my  aid, 
it  is  with  no  romantic  or  theatrical  design.  It  is  not 
to  invent  unreal  forms,  but  to  call  up  before  us  those 
already  in  existence.  The  materials  upon  which  she 
is  to  work  are  simple  facts  recorded  in  God’s  word, 
and  rendered  still  more  tangible  and  real,  to  our  ap¬ 
prehension,  by  the  minutia3  of  time  and  place. 


82 


SERMONS. 


On  the  east  side  of  Jerusalem,  between  the  city 
and  the  Mount  of  Olives,  flows  a  stream  called  Ke- 
dron.  Beyond  this,  at  the  very  foot  of  Olivet,  there 
is  a  small  enclosure,  with  a  low  stone  wall,  containing 
a  very  few  ancient  olive-trees,  the  offspring  and  suc¬ 
cessors  of  an  elder  race.  Tliis  place  is  now  called 
Jesmaniah,  but  according  to  a  tradition  of  the  coun¬ 
try,  which  there  seems  to  be  no  reason  to  discredit, 
it  was  called,  in  ancient  times,  Gethsemane.  Into 
this  enclosure,  on  a  Thursday  night,  there  entered 
four  men  from  the  Mount  of  Olives.  I  cannot  de¬ 
scribe  their  persons,  but  I  know  their  countenances 
must  have  been  dejected,  for  their  hearts  were  full  of 
sorrow.  And  on  the  heart  of  one  among  the  number 
there  rested,  at  that  hour,  a  load  of  grief,  compared 
with  wdiich  the  aggregated  sorrows  of  the  human 
family,  before  and  since,  are  nothing.  Yes,  if  we 
could  collect  the  tears  of  widowed  wives,  and  child¬ 
less  mothers,  and  forsaken  orphans,  the  cries  of  every 
battle-field,  the  groans  of  every  hospital,  the  shrieks 
of  every  torture-room,  the  unheard  sobs  which  have 
been  stifled  in  the  prison  house,  and  all  those  deeper 
agonies  which  never  And  expression — they  would  be 
as  nothing  to  the  single  pang  which  wrung  a  single 
heart,  upon  that  awful  night. 

Here,  if  we  chose,  we  might  indulge  imagination, 
without  any  fear  that  our  conceptions  would  transcend 
the  truth,  or  that  the  longest  line  that  we  could  heave 
would  ever  reach  the  bottom  of  that  deep,  deep  sea 
of  sorrow.  But  such  indulgence  would  be  no  less 
vain  than  painful.  Let  us  rather  in  imagination  fol¬ 
low  the  four  men,  till  their  forms  are  almost  lost 


MARK  14,  41. 


33 


among  tlie  olive-trees.  Tliree  of  them  sit  upon  the 
ground,  while  the  fourth  passes  on  into  a  deeper 
shade  and  a  remoter  solitude.  Do  yon  know  him, 
Christian  brethren  ?  Oh,  I  believe  that  if  that  blessed 
face  should  now  appear  among  ns,  as  it  then  looked 
in  Gethseniane,  we  all  shonld  know  it.  I  am  aware 
that  many  wild  imaginations  have  been  cherished, 
and  that  ]3ainters  and  poets  have  exhausted  their  in¬ 
vention  in  conjectural  embellishments.  But  if  that 
living  conntenance  conld  now  be  set  before  ns,  I  be¬ 
lieve  that  in  its  aspect  of  benignant  sadness,  in  the 
lines  of  sinless  sorrow  which  had  marred  its  surface, 
we  conld  read  the  name  of  its  possessor  no  less  clearly 
than  in  Pilate’s  superscription  on  the  cross.  It  was 
the  Son  of  Man.  His  companions  were  the  sons  of 
men,  but  he  the  Son  of  Man.  He  sustained  a  rela¬ 
tion  to  humanity  itself,  for  in  its  coarse  integuments 
his  deity  was  shrouded.  The  Son  of  God,  by  a  vol¬ 
untary  act,  became  the  Son  of  Man,  and  from  the 
bosom  of  the  Father,  where  he  dwelt  before  the  world 
was,  took  up  his  abode  in  the  bosom  of  our  fallen  and 
unhappy  race.  We  cannot  pierce  the  mystery  of  that 
transition,  nor  explain  how  the  divinity  was  held  in 
abeyance,  that  humanity  might  exercise  its  finite 
powers  ;  but  we  know  that  from  the  moment  of  that 
union,  there  arose  an  identity  of  interest  and  feeling 
which  shall  never  end ;  that  no  sooner  had  the  Son  of 
God  become  the  Son  of  Man,  than  there  began  to 
gush,  within  his  human  heart,  a  Avell-spring  of  sym¬ 
pathy  which  angels  cannot  know  ;  that  the  pains  of 
his  infancy  were  pains  of  human  infirmity,  that  the 
tears  of  his  maturity  were  drops  of  human  sorrow, 

VOL,  II. — 2* 


34 


SERMONS. 


that  the  sins  for  which  he  suffered  were  the  sins  of 
hnmankind,  that  he  stood  in  onr  place  not  only  as  out 
sacrifice,  but  also  as  onr  sympathetic  fellow-man,  not 
only  on  the  cross,  bnt  in  the  lingering  crucifixion  of 
a  life  of  sorrow,  from  the  stable  in  Bethlehem,  where 
we  find  him  first,  to  the  olives  of  Gethsemane,  where 
we  see  him  now. 

And  in  what  position  ?  Prostrate  on  the  ground. 
See  that  blessed  brow  in  contact  with  the  cold  damp 
earth.  See  the  convulsive  agitation  of  the  frame ; 
and  though  the  grief,  which  it  betokens,  lies  too  deep 
for  tears,  see  the  sweat,  like  drops  of  blood,  stream¬ 
ing  out  of  every  pore.  Sons  and  daughters  of  men,  it 
is  the  Son  of  Man  ;  it  is  the  burden  of  humanity  that 
crushes  his  unspotted  heart ;  it  is  the  heart’s  blood  of 
our  race  that  oozes  from  him  ;  it  is  the  Son  of  Man  in 
anguish  for  mankind.  I  need  not  ask  you  to  recall 
the  words  he  uttered ;  the  vocal  anguish  of  a  broken 
heart ;  but  I  beseech  you  to  imagine  that  you  see 
him  rising,  not  refreshed,  as  we  might  be,  by  such  a 
burst  of  feeling,  but,  with  that  load  upon  his  heart 
still  undiminished,  see  him  come  back  to  his  friends, 
whom  he  had  left,  as  if  for  sympathy.  And  does  he 
find  them  weeping  ?  or  engaged  in  sad  discourse,  or 
musing  in  sad  silence  ?  Mo,  he  finds  them  sleej)ing ! 
How  does  he  treat  neglect  so  shameful  ?  He  arouses 
them,  but  gently,  with  this  mild  expostulation  : 
“  What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour  ?  ” 
He  goes  again :  he  falls  again  upon  the  ground :  he 
repeats  that  prayer  which  we  ought  never  to  repeat 
without  profound  emotion  :  he  returns  to  his  com¬ 
panions,  and  again  they  are  asleep.  He  utters  no  se- 


MARK  14,  41, 


35 


vere  rebuke,  nor  even  a  complaint,  except  by  asking 
as  before,  Could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  honr  ?  ” 
He  goes  again,  and  for  the  last  time,  to  his  place  of 
prayer :  he  prays  again :  and  with  that  prayer  un¬ 
answered,  his  distress  unmitigated,  he  comes  back  to 
his  friends,  and  they  are  sleeping !  Does  he  spurn 
them?  Does  he  rouse  them  by  contemptuous  re¬ 
proof  ?  Or  does  he  leave  them  in  anger  to  their  own 
ignoble  slumbers  ?  He  does  neither. 

The  deportment  of  the  Son  of  Man,  on  that  oc¬ 
casion,  has  a  transcendent,  a  divine  sublimity,  which 
no  imagination  could  invent  or  heighten.  Ho  exhi¬ 
bition  of  Almighty  wrath,  however  grand,  though  ex¬ 
ecuted  by  a  legion  of  angels  armed  with  lightning, 
tempest,  and  the  winds  of  heaven,  could  have  invested 
him  with  such  a  glory,  as  the  air  of  serene  sorrow 
with  which  he  at  once  rebukes,  forgives,  and  warns 
them  of  their  danger.  “  Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your 
rest :  it  is  enough,  the  hour  is  come ;  behold,  the  Son 
of  Man  is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.”  And 
as  he  speaks,  the  glare  of  torch-light  is  perceived 
among  the  olive-trees,  and  the  betrayer  comes.  You 
Ivnow  what  follows  :  you  know  what  went  before  :  I 
need  neither  ask  nor  tell  you  who  the  three  men  were. 
I  need  not  tell  you  that  among  the  number  was  the 
same  bold  spirit  who,  a  little  while  before,  had  almost 
sworn,  that  though  all  men  should  forsake  him,  he 
would  follow  him  to  death,  and  who,  a  little  after, 
actually  swore  that  he  had  never  known  the  man.  I 
need  not  tell  you,  that  another  of  the  number  was  the 
man  who  leaned  upon  his  Master’s  bosom,  and  was 
called  his  friend.  You  know  the  history,  and  I  shall 


36 


SEEMOI^S. 


leave  it  to  your  private  meditation.  Do  not  neglect 
it.  This  is  surely  no  unworthy  theme  for  your  reflec¬ 
tions.  I  am  afraid  that  it  is  not  a  common  one.  I 
am  afraid  that  even  Christians  may  grow  weary  of 
their  Saviour’s  passion.  I  am  afraid  that  there  are 
men,  and  Christian  men,  who  can  allow  themselves 
the  pitiable  luxury  of  weeping  over  fiction,  but  who 
have  no  tears  to  shed  with  Jesus  in  Gethseinane. 
They  regard  it  as  a  waste  of  time  to  dwell  upon  the 
circumstantial  statements  of  the  gospel,  which  cannot 
be  reduced  to  abstract,  systematic  form.  Or,  at  best, 
they  are  contented  with  a  cold,  dry  knowledge  of  the 
facts  related.  They  do  not  regard  it  as  a  matter 
of  feeling  :  they  would  be  ashamed  to  do  so.  I 
speak  the  experience  of  some  who  hear  me.  But 
ought  this  so  to  be  ?  ^Ye  must  go  back  to  the  simple 
faith  and  feelings  of  our  childhood.  We  must,  at 
least  in  this  respect,  become  little  children.  Those 
same  imaginations,  which  have  so  often  been  the 
ministers  of  sin,  must  be  used  for  better  purposes. 
By  their  aid  we  must  stand  on  Olivet  and  Geth- 
semaiie,  mix  with  the  rabble  which  surrounds  the 
master,  hear  the  deep  imprecation  of  the  Koman  sol¬ 
dier,  and  the  louder  curses  of  the  Jewish  mob  j  follow 
to  the  house  of  the  High  Priest  and  the  Pretorium ; 
look  at  the  false  Procurator  as  he  dooms  the  innocent, 
and  vainly  tries  to  wash  the  blood  away  with  water. 
But  I  need  not  go  further. 

Pix  your  thoughts,  I  pray  you,  on  these  scenes  as 
real  scenes,  and  try  to  see  and  hear  as  if  the  sights 
and  sounds  were  present  to  your  senses.  Having  so 
done,  let  us  gather  from  this  night  scene  in  Geth- 


MARK  14,  41. 


37 


semane  the  lessons  ■which  it  teaches  for  our  own  in¬ 
struction.  That  it  teaches  such  lessons  is  not  the  less 
true,  because  the  external  circumstances  of  the  case 
I’ecorded  are  entirely  different  from  our  own.  That 
which  renders  the  narratives  of  Holy  Writ  instruc¬ 
tive,  is  not  identity  of  outward  situation,  hut  analogy 
of  motive  and  of  moral  relations.  The  same  guilt 
may  he  incurred  by  us  as  by  the  twelve  apostles,  and 
in  these  ends  of  the  earth  as  well  as  in  Jerusalem. 
Heither  sloth  nor  treachery  derives  its  moral  quality 
from  time  or  place.  In  further  illustration  of  this 
statement,  and  in  application  of  the  text,  let  me  call 
your  attention  to  a  few  thoughts  which  it  has  sug¬ 
gested. 

I.  The  first  is,  that  the  Son  of  Man  may  even  now 
he  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.  Men  are  apt 
to  imagine,  that  had  they  lived  in  the  time  of  Christ, 
they  would  not  thus  and  thus  have  treated  him.  Tliis 
is,  for  the  most  part,  mere  illusion.  They  who  hate 
Christ  now,  would  have  hated  him  then.  They  who 
despise  him  unseen,  would  have  spurned  him  to  his 
face.  They  who  maltreat  his  members,  would  have 
persecuted  him.  This  is  a  test  proposed  by  Christ 
himself.  That  which  is  done  to  the  humblest  of  his 
followers,  as  such,  is  done  to  him.  The  interests  of 
Christ’s  church,  are  the  interests  of  Christ.  The  en¬ 
emies  of  Christ’s  churcli,  are  the  enemies  of  Christ. 
Even  in  our  own  day  Christ  may  he  betrayed.  He 
may  he  betrayed  by  his  own  disciples.  He  may  he 
betrayed  witli  a  kiss.  For  such  treason  the  ungodly 
world  is  waiting.  There  are  always  sinners  to  receive 
him  at  the  traitor’s  hands  and  pay  the  traitor’s  wages. 


38 


SERMONS. 


He  can  no  longer  be  betrayed  by  tlie  delivery  of  bis 
person  into  hostile  bands.  Bnt  the  disposition  to  snr 
render  bim  to  enemies  may  still  exist :  a  disposition 
to  procure  tbe  favour  of  tbe  world  at  bis  expense.  In 
short,  tbe  same  state  of  feeling  may  now  operate  in 
various  directions,  and  in  various  forms,  which,  if  tbe 
Saviour  were  now  present  upon  earth,  would  cause 
bim  to  be  first  forsaken,  then  betrayed. 

In  this  sense,  for  example,  it  may  well  be  said 
that  tbe  Son  of  Man  is  betrayed  into  tbe  bands  of  sin¬ 
ners,  when  tbe  truth  respecting  bim  is  given  up  to 
errorists,  or  cavillers,  or  infidels  ;  when  bis  divinity  is 
called  in  question ;  when  bis  eternal  Sonsbip  is  de¬ 
graded  or  denied ;  when  tbe  sinless  perfection  of  bis 
buman  nature  is  tainted  by  tbe  breath  of  dubious 
speculation ;  when  bis  atonement  is  disfigured  and 
perverted ;  when  tbe  value  of  bis  cross  and  bloody 
passion  is  depreciated  ;  when  bis  place  in  tbe  system 
of  free  grace  is  taken  from  bim  and  bestowed  on  some¬ 
thing  else  ;  when  the  purchase  of  bis  agonies  is  made 
to  be  tbe  purchase  of  our  own  good  works ;  when 
faith  in  bim,  as  a  means  of  salvation,  is  exchanged  for 
mere  submission  to  tbe  government  of  God ;  when 
bis  present  existence,  as  a  man,  is  forgotten ;  when 
bis  personal  presence,  as  a  God,  is  overlooked ;  when 
bis  exaltation  and  bis  future  coming  are  lost  sight  of 
by  bis  people.  By  conceding  so  much  to  tbe  unbe¬ 
liever,  we  betray  tbe  Saviour  to  bim  to  be  buffeted 
and  spit  upon. 

To  mention  only  one  other  example :  Christ  is 
betrayed  into  tbe  bands  of  sinners,  when  bis  gospel 
is  perverted,  bis  example  dishonoured,  and  bim- 


MARK  14,  41. 


39 


self  represented  as  tlie 'minister  of  sin.  The  honour 
of  the  Saviour  is  in  some  sense  committed  to  the  care 
of  his  disciples ;  and  this  sacred  trust  is  shamefnllj 
betrayed,  when  they  give  the  world  occasion,  in  de¬ 
spising  them,  to  treat  their  master  with  contempt 
O  Christian  !  have  yon  ever  thought,  that  every 
inconsistent  and  nnworthy  act  of  yours  is  one  step 
towards  betraying  Him  whom  you  profess  to  love  ? 
And  if,  while  yon  thus  habitually  act,  yon  hold  fast 
yonr  profession,  it  is  only  adding  the  betrayer’s  Mss  to 
the  betrayer’s  perfidy.  My  first  remark,  then,  is  that 
even  now,  the  Son  of  Man  may  be  betrayed  into  the 
hands  of  sinners.  And  let  me  add,  that  there  arO  times 
when  such  a  disposition  shows  itself  in  more  than  com¬ 
mon  strength  ;  when,  through  the  abounding  of  temp¬ 
tation  and  iniquity,  the  faith  of  mnltitndes  is  sorely 
tried  ;  and  after  the  experiment  is  finished,  it  appears, 
that  many,  whose  profession  was  as  fair  as  that  of 
Judas,  have  like  Judas  gone  to  their  own  place,  and 
that  others  whose  pretensions  were  as  high  as  those 
of  Peter,  have  like  him  denied  their  Master,  and  then 
gone  out  and  wept  bitterly.  For  such  times,  when 
the  Saviour  or  his  cause  are  in  danger  from  betrayers, 
it  behoves  ns  all,  my  friends,  to  stand  prepared. 

II.  Another  thought  which  I  suggest,  is,  that 
when  the  cause  of  Christ  is  about  to  be  betrayed  into 
the  hands  of  sinners,  his  disciples  are  to  watch,  to 
watch  unto  prayer,  lest  they  enter  into  temptation. 
Tliis  is  incumbent  upon  all  disciples,  but  especially 
on  some.  And  among  those  there  is  many  a  bold, 
self-trusting  Peter,  and  many  a  Boanerges.  Those 
who  are  office-bearers  in  the  Church,  are  the  honoured 


40 


SERMONS. 


but  responsible  companions  of  tbeir  Master  in  the  day 
of  trial.  He  asks  not  for  tlie  exertion  of  tlieir  strenerth 
in  liis  behalf.  He  asks  not  for  their  sympathy ;  he 
asks  not  for  their  prayers  ;  but  he  does  demand  their 
vigilance.  When  he  looks  upon  the  purchase  of  his 
blood,  s^^oiled  and  ravaged  by  the  enemy ;  his  little 
flock  pursued  and  torn  by  wolves  ;  his  vineyard 
spoiled  and  trodden  by  wild  beasts  ;  the  great  Inter¬ 
cessor  pours  out  his  own  cries  and  tears  before  the 
Father,  and  although  he  says  no  more,  My  soul  is  ex¬ 
ceeding  sorrowful,  even  unto  death,”  he  does  say,  and  to 
you,  my  brethren,  “  Tarry  ye  here  and  watch  with  me.” 

HI.  Another  thought,  and  that  a  melancholy  one, 
is,  that  when  Christ’s  disciples  are  thus  left  to  watch, 
while  he  is  interceding  with  the  F ather,  they  too  often 
fall  asleep.  Some,  in  the  touching  language  of  the 
gospel,  may  be  “  sleeping  for  sorrow.”  But  oh,  how 
many  others  sleep  for  sloth  and  sheer  indiff'erence. 
And  if  any  sleep  for  sorrow,  they  do  wrong.  For 
when  our  Saviour  found  his  chosen  friends  asleep 
upon  their  post,  he  aroused  them  and  reproached  them 
with  that  mild  expostulation,  “  Could  ye  not  watch 
witli  me  one  hour  ?  ”  He  said,  indeed,  as  if  to  ex¬ 
tenuate  their  guilt,  that  the  spirit  was  willing  though 
the  flesh  was  weak.  But  even  admitting  wliat  is 
commonly  supposed,  that  flesh  and  spirit  here  mean 
soul  and  body,  it  does  not  follow  that  their  slumber 
was  excusable.  Christ  would  not  repeatedly  have 
roused  them  from  an  innocent  and  necessary  slumber. 
Much  less  was  it  excusable,  if,  as  some  excellent  in¬ 
terpreters  have  thought,  spirit  here  means  the  better 
principle,  the  new  heart,  and  flesh  the  remnant  of  in- 


MARK  14,  41. 


41 


dwelling  sin.  If  tins  be  so,  it  was  hardness  of  heart 
and  sj)iritiial  slotii  that  made  them  sleep  for  sorrow. 
Oh  my  brethren,  if  yoiir  hearts  are  full  of  sorrow,  be¬ 
cause  men  make  void  God’s  law,  it  is  no  time  for  yon 
to  sleej) !  The  Church,  Christ’s  weeping  bride,  and 
the  dying  souls  of  men,  are  at  your  pillow,  shrieking 
in  your  ears,  like  the  shipmaster  in  the  ears  of  Jonah : 
“  What  meanest  thou,  O  sleeper  ?  Arise,  call  upon 
thy  God,  if  so  be  that  God  will  think  upon  us,  that 
wn  perish  not.” 

lY.  But  alas !  this  warning  voice  is  often  heard  in 
vain.  Amidst  a  world  lying  in  wickedness,  amidst 
the  untold  miseries  produced  by  sin,  amidst  the  dying 
agonies  of  unsaved  souls  as  they  go  down  to  their  per¬ 
dition,  amidst  the  fierce  attacks  of  open  enemies  upon 
the  Son  of  Man,  and  the  devices  of  false  followers  to 
betray  him  to  those  enemies ;  his  friends,  his  chosen 
friends,  sleep  on.  Yes,  even  those  who  were  the  loud¬ 
est  in  profession,  and  the  boldest  in  defiance,  when 
the  danger  was  far  off,  are  found  asleep  when  it  ap- 
,proaches.  And  that  sleep  would  prove  to  be  the 
sleep  of  death,  if  we  had  not  an  High  Priest  who  can 
be  touched  with  the  sense  of  our  infirmities,  and  when 
he  sees  us  thus  asleep,  comes  near  and  rouses  us. 
Dear  friends,  there  may  be  some  before  me  now,  who, 
tliough  sincere  believers,  have  been  overcome  by 
sleep.  YMur  senses  and  your  intellects  may  be 
awake,  your  conscience  has  its  fitful  starts  and  inter¬ 
vals  of  wakefulness,  when  scared  out  of  its  slumbers 
by  terrific  dreams.  But  your  affections  are  asleep. 
Your  love  to  Christ,  your  dread  of  sin,  your  hope  of 
heaven,  your  abstraction  from  this  world,  your  taste 


42 


SERMONS. 


for  spiritual  food,  your  zeal  for  God,  your  charity — 
all  these  are  exercises  which  you  have  experienced  ; 
hut  alas,  they  are  hut  “  shadows,  not  substantial 
things  ;  ”  the  ghosts  of  past  experience,  the  echo  of 
hushed  voices  :  you  hear  the  gospel,  but  it  is  like  the 
drowsy  lull  of  distant  waters,  making  sleep  more 
sound ;  you  see  its  light,  but  with  your  eyelids 
closed,  and  so  subdued  its  splendour,  that  it  only 
soothes  the  sense  and  deepens  its  repose.  You  feel 
the  breathings  of  the  Spirit,  but  so  gently,  that  they 
only  add  illusion  to  your  dreams.  Is  it  not  so  ?  hlo 
wonder,  then,  that  your  religion  is  a  visionary  and 
ideal  thing :  I  do  not  mean  that  it  has  no  reality,  but 
that  its  outward  actings  are  suspended,  and  its  power 
wasted  in  conceptions  and  imaginations  never  to  be 
realized. 

If  this  is  your  experience,  I  appeal  to  you,  and 
ask  you  whether  even  in  this  dreamy  state,  you  have 
not  felt  the  gentle  hand  of  Christ  at  times  upon  you  ? 
Has  not  the  most  slothful  and  obdurate  of  us  all,  the 
most  absorbed  in  worldly  cares  and  pleasures,  some¬ 
times,  in  his  calmer  and  more  serious  moments,  felt 
that  mild  but  potent  pressure?  Oh,  is  there  one  of 
us  so  given  up  of  God,  so  forgotten  of  the  Saviour,  as 
to  be  left  to  slumber  with  the  blaze  of  the  betrayer’s 
touch  upon  his  very  eyelids  ?  God  forbid !  Ho, 
there  is  not  a  man  or  woman  here  to-night,  believing, 
but  asleep,  who  has  not  once  and  again  been  roused, 
in  one  form  or  another,  by  the  Son  of  Man  himself. 
Do  you  doubt  it  ?  Let  me  aid  your  recollection  by 
a  few  suggestions.  Have  you  not  had  your  personal 
afflictions  ?  Has  not  your  house  been  visited  by  sick 


MARK  14,  41. 


43 


ness  ?  Are  tliere  no  chasms  at  your  table  or  your 
fireside  ?  Are  tliere  no  shadows  on  the  last  leaves  of 
your  history,  no  doubts,  no  darkness,  no  perplexity, 
no  pain  of  mind  or  body,  no  disgrace,  no  losses  ? 
And  do  you  wonder  at  these  hard,  tliese  unkind 
strokes  of  the  Hedeemer’s  hand  ?  O  sleeping  Chris¬ 
tian,  he  is  hut  touching  you  to  save  you  from  per¬ 
dition.  And  if  the  noise  of  this  world  would  hut 
cease  to  fill  your  ears,  you  would  hear  the  injured 
hut  forgiving  Saviour,  saying  in  that  same  sad  gentle 
voice,  with  which  he  said  to  Peter,  James,  and  John, 
“  Could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour  ?  ’’ 

But  it  is  not  only  in  personal  afflictions  that  the 
Saviour  rouses  you.  Have  you  not  felt  his  hand  in 
public  trials  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the  trials  of 
the  Church  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the  creeping 
growth,  of  error,  in  the  strife  of  tongues,  and  in  the 
lacerating  schism  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the 
abounding  of  iniquity,  and  in  the  waxing  cold  of 
many  a  burning  heart  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the 
growth  of  a  censorious,  harsh,  and  hitter  spirit,  and 
the  exchange  of  kindly  charities  for  ostentatious  right¬ 
eousness  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the  decay  of 
Christian  knowledge,  in  the  prevalence  of  shallow,  su¬ 
perficial  Christianity,  and  in  the  consequent  triumph 
of  fanaticism  ?  Have  you  not  felt  it  in  the  shock  of 
revolution,  threatening  the  foundations  of  society  it¬ 
self?  Have  you  not  felt  it  hi  the  leanness  of  your 
own  souls,  and  in  the  barrenness  of  your  Master’s 
vineyard?  And  in  each  and  all  of  these  successive 
visitations,  can  you  not  hear  the  accents  of  the  Son 
of  Man,  gently  reproaching  your  long  spiritual  slum- 


44 


SERMONS. 


ber,  as  tlie  cause  of  all  tliese  evils  ?  Can  yon  not  bear 
biin  saying,  even  to  yourselves,  as  be  said  to  bis  dis- 
cij)les,  witb  a  bursting  heart,  that  nigbt,  Could  ye 
not  watcli  witb  me  one  bour  ?  ” 

But  it  is  not  merely  in  afflictions  and  in  public 
trials  that  be  thus  accosts  us.  If  you  bave  not  seen 
bim  in  tbe  fire  of  fanaticism,  if  you  bave  not  felt  bim 
in  tbe  earthquake  of  commotion,  if  you  bave  not 
beard  bim  in  tbe  whirlwind  of  intestine  strife,  you 
may  bave  beard  bim  in  the  still  small  voice  of  mercy. 
Have  you  bad  no  signal  mercies,  since  you  fell  asleep  ? 
Ho  surprising  deliverances  or  unexpected  restora¬ 
tions?  Ho  relief  from  sorrow,  and  disgrace,  and 
care  ?  Ho  increase  of  substance,  no  additions  to  your 
comfort,  no  enlarged  opportunities  of  usefulness  to 
others,  no  occasional  glimpses  of  heaven  for  yourself? 
And  can  you  bear  all  this  enumerated,  and  yet  fail 
to  bear  tbe  Master,  in  and  tbrougb  these  mercies,  say¬ 
ing,  “  Could  ye  not  watch  witb  me  one  bour  ?  ” 

Hor  is  this  all.  Besides  tbe  voice  of  personal  af¬ 
flictions,  and  of  public  trials,  and  of  private  mercies, 
tliere  is  a  voice  in  public  mercies  too.  I  ask  not 
whether  you  bave  felt  Christ’s  band,  or  beard  bis 
voice  in  national  prosperity,  in  tbe  continuance  of 
national  advantages,  and  in  deliverance  from  national 
calamities,  too  well  deserved.  But  bave  you  not  felt 
bis  band  in  mercies  to  tbe  cburcb.  I  refer  not  to  the 
vindication  of  ber  civil  rights,  however  timely  and 
remarkable,  but  to  those  spiritual  mercies  which  are 
apt  to  be  forgotten  in  tbe  tumult  of  political  and  party 
exultation.  Has  be  not  visited  some  forsaken  spots  even 
in  tbe  midst  of  surrounding  desolation  ?  Has  be  not 


MARK  14,  41. 


45 


appeared  tliere,  to  lieal  divisions,  to  reform  abases,  to 
arouse  attention,  to  decide  tbe  wavering,  to  reclaim 
backsliders,  to  increase  tbe  spirit  of  prayer,  to  give 
life  and  vigour  to  tbe  preaching  of  tbe  word,  to  make 
temporal  affairs  look  small,  and  eternal  tbings  as  large 
as  life  ?  “  To'  open  tbe  eyes  of  many  blind,  to  turn 
tbem  from  darkness  to  light,  and  from  tbe  power  of 
Satan  nnto  God  ?  ’’  And  what  is  tbe  lanffna2:e  of  these 
signal  mercies  to  ns,  who,  all  around,  have  stood  still 
and  seen  the  salvation  of  God  ?  Stood  still !  nay 
rather,  who  have  lain  asleep.  Is  it  not  tbe  voice  of 
God,  reproaching  our  nnwatcbfulness  and  spiritual 
slumber  ?  Is  it  not  tbe  voice  of  tbe  Son  of  Man,  in 
sorrow  not  in  anger,  saying  to  us  here,  as  be  once  said 
in  Getbsemane :  What !  could  ye  not  watch  with 
me  one  hour  ?  ” 

These  v/ords  were  twice  repeated,  after  tbe  first 
and  second  agony  and  prayer.  But  when  our  Lord 
bad  for  the  third  time  fallen  prostrate  and  arisen, 
when  be  came  a  third  time  to  bis  friends  and  found 
tbem  sleeping,  be  no  longer  expostulated ;  be  no 
longer  asked  whether  they  could  not  watch  with  him 
one  hour.  He  aroused  tbem  indeed,  but  with  another 
form  of  speech :  “  Sleep  on  now,’’  or  “  hereafter,”  as  it 
might  have  been  translated.  There  is  something  far 
more  awful  in  this  mild  but  significant  permission  to 
sleep  on,  than  in  all  tbe  invectives  or  reproofs  be 
could  have  uttered.  Sleep  on  henceforth  and  take 
your  rest.”  Ob !  what  a  rest  is  that  which  must  be 
taken  while  our  Master  is  betrayed,  and  scourged, 
and  buffeted,  and  spit  upon !  It  is  enough,”  or 
rather,  “it  is  finished;  it  is  now  too  late  to  watch.” 


46 


SERMONS. 


Behold,”  and  here  perhaps  he  pointed  to  Iscariot  as 
he  drew  near  with  his  gang — “  behold  the  Son  of  Man 
is  betrayed  into  the  hands  of  sinners.”  Brethren,  do 
your  hearts  swell  with  shame  and  indignation,  as  yon 
liear  the  Son  of  Man  thus  addressing  his  disciples, 
who  had  slept,  instead  of  watching  to  protect  his 
sacred  agony  from  prematnre  intrusion,  and  to  pro¬ 
tect  themselves  from  coming  danger?  What,  then, 
will  be  yonr  feelings  when  he  thus  addresses  yon? 
when  after  rousing  yon,  reproaching  you,  and  warn¬ 
ing  you  in  vain ;  after  saying,  by  afflictions  and  by 
mercies,  public  and  private,  both  to  you  and  to  the 
Church,  “  Could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour  ?  ” 
and  seeing  you,  in  each  case,  relapse  at  once  into  a  state 
of  slumber,  he  shall  cease  to  visit  you  with  salutary 
warnings,  give  you  up  to  the  stagnation  of  your  spirit¬ 
ual  sloth,  and,  by  his  providential  dealings,  say  to  you, 
and  those  around  you,  “  Sleep  on  now,  and  take  your 
rest  ?  ”  Can  you  bear  it  ?  Can  any  of  us  bear  it  ?  Yes 
we  can  bear  it,  without  pain,  and  with  mdifference,  be¬ 
cause  he  will  not  say  it  till  all  other  means  have 
failed,  and  till  our  hearts  are  hard  through  the  de¬ 
ceitfulness  of  sin.  If  we  v/ait  for  this  last,  sad,  terri¬ 
ble  farewell  to  break  our  slumbers,  before  we  begin 
to  watch  and  pray,  we  wait  forever.  The  only  hope 
is  to  anticipate  that  moment ;  to  hear  our  Lord,  be¬ 
forehand  saying,  “  Sleep  on  now  ;  ”  to  imagine,  while 
we  have  some  feeling  left,  what  we  should  feel,  if  we 
heard  him  tell  us  now  to  take  our  rest,  because  it  is 
too  late  to  watch,  because  the  hour  is  already  come, 
and  the  Son  of  Man  is  just  about  to  be  betrayed  into 
the  hands  of  sinners. 


MARK  14,  41. 


47 


* 


I  fear  it  is  a  growing  sin  and  error  of  the  Church, 
to  forget  that  the  man  Christ  Jesus  still  exists ; 
to  act  as  if  we  thought  that  his  humanity  evapo¬ 
rated,  or  became  assimilated  to  the  cloud  which  bore 
him  from  the  mountain  to  the  sides.  Or  if  we  believe 
in  his  continued  existence  as  a  man,  we  are  too  apt  to 
think  of  him  as  feeling  no  concern,  no  human  sym¬ 
pathy  in  our  affairs.  I  dare  not  lift  the  veil  which 
God  has  hung  around  our  Saviour’s  present  residence, 
or,  with  profane  conjecture,  try  to  penetrate  its  mys¬ 
teries  ;  but  as  long  as  I  believe  the  Bible,  how  can  I 
forget  that  Christ  is  still  a  witness  of  terrestrial  things, 
and  that  he  has  a  heart  to  feel,  not  only  for  the  sor¬ 
rows,  but  for  the  sins  of  his  disciples.  Oh,  if  instead 
of  our  jejune  conceptions  of  an  abstract  deity,  an  ab¬ 
stract  Christ,  and  an  ideal  heaven,  we  coidd  think 
and  feel  about  him  as  the  twelve  did  when  he  was 
absent  from  their  sight ;  when,  for  example,  he  had 
just  ascended,  and  their  minds  were  stamped  with 
fresh  impressions  of  his  person  ;  if  we  could  think  of 
him,  not  as  a  nonentity,  not  as  an  ancient  half-forgot¬ 
ten  personage,  but  as  we  think  of  friends  whom  we 
have  lost ;  then  we  should  read  his  history  with  other 
eyes,  and  other  hearts.  Oh,  then,  it  would  be  easy 
to  believe  that  he,  who  was  with  the  disciples  in  the 
garden,  is  now  here ;  that  he,  whose  heart  was  touched 
by  their  neglect,  may  still  be  touched  by  ours ;  that 
he,  who  said  to  them,  “  Sleep  on  now,”  may  say  the 
same  to  us.  God  grant  that  the  time  be  not  at  hand, 
when  he  shall  thus  speak  to  all  or  any  of  those  pres¬ 
ent  !  God  grant  that  the  spiritual  dearth  wdiich  we 
experience,  and  the  multiplied  evils  which  have  vexed 


48 


SERMONS. 


tlie  Clmrcli,  be  not  so  many  Yoices,  in  wliicb  Clirist 
is  saying  to  ns,  Sleep  on  now,  and  take  yonr  rest ; 
the  bonr  is  corned’ 

That  this  may  not  prove  to  be  indeed  the  case,  we 
must  arise  and  call  iipon  onr  God  ;  we  must  come  np 
to  tbe  kelp  of  the  Lord  against  tbe  miglity.  But  ob 
remember,  tliat  tbe  weapons  of  onr  warfare  are  not 
carnal.  Wben  tbe  presnmptnons  Simon  was  at  last 
aroused,  and  saw  bis  Master’s  danger,  be  tbongbt  to 
atone  by  violence  for  past  neglect.  And  many  a 
modern  Simon  does  tbe  same.  Wben  once  aronsed 
tbey  draw  tbe* sword  of  fiery  fanaticism,  to  wound 
tbemselves  and  others,  and  it  is  often  not  till  tbey 
bave  sbed  mncb  precious  blood,  tbat  tbey  are  calm 
enongb  to  bear  tbe  Savionr  saying,  “Put  np  again 
tby  sword  into  bis  place,  for  all  tbey  tbat  take  tbe 
sword  shall  perish  by  tbe  sword.”  And  it  is  not  too 
mncb  to  say,  tbat  most  of  those  who,  in  onr  own  day, 
bave  conspicnonsly  grasped  tbe  sword  of  fierce  vin¬ 
dictive  zeal,  bave  perished  by  it,  not  in  their  sonls, 
but  in  their  character  and  infinence.  God’s  retribn- 
tions  are  infallible  and  just.  Tbe  torrent  of  fero¬ 
cious  zeal  which  recently  swept  over  ns,  and  threat¬ 
ened  all  onr  ancient  landmarks  with  snbversion,  has 
subsided,  or  been  hardened,  like  tbe  lava,  into  rock, 
while  tbe  landmarks,  which  it  bid  from  sight,  at  one 
time  by  its  surges,  still  retain  their  ancient  places,  nn- 
consnmed,  nnsbaken.  Bnt  is  there  no  danger  from 
an  opposite  direction  ?  Is  it  any  consolation  tbat  tbe 
sword  is  in  its  scabbard,  if  tbe  bearers  of  tbe  sword 
are  fast  asleep,  instead  of  watching  ?  Is  there  no 
cause  to  fear  tbat,  having  vanquished  error  and  dis- 


MARK  14,  41. 


49 


order,  as  we  think,  we  shall  fall  asleep  upon  onr  arms 
and  laurels  ?  Oh  let  ns  remember,  that  the  enemies 
of  Christ  are  still  to  be  contended  with,  not  only  in 
the  Church  and  world,  but  in  the  hearts  of  men,  and 
in  onr  own  hearts  individually.  Let  ns  bear  in  mind 
that  although  every  heresy  were  banished  from  our 
pulpits  and  onr  schools,  we  may  not  cease  to  watch 
and  pray,  lest  we  should  enter  into  worse  temptation ; 
lest,  in  the  midst  of  an  unprofitable  orthodoxy,  souls 
should  be  lost  through  onr  untimely  slumbers.  If 
this  is  to  be  dreaded  above  all  disaster,  watch,  breth¬ 
ren,  watch  and  pray ! 


VOL.  II. — 3 


m. 


Matthew  11,  12. — From  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now, 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by 
force. 

"WiiAT  we  call  the  old  economy  or  old  dispensa¬ 
tion,  was  a  temporary  and  preparatory  system,  ex¬ 
tending  only  to  the  advent  of  the  Saviour,  or,  at  most, 
to  the  completion  of  his  saving  work.  His  appear¬ 
ance  necessarily  brought  with  it  a  change  of  dispen¬ 
sations,  which  had  been  foreseen  and  provided  for 
from  the  beginning.  But  this  part  of  the  divine  pur¬ 
pose  had  been  gradually  lost  sight  of,  and  the  Jews 
had  learned  to  regard  their  temporary  system  as  per¬ 
petual,  and  its  symbolical  rites  as  intrinsically  effica¬ 
cious.  To  such  a  state  of  feeling  and  opinion  the 
abrogation  of  the  ancient  system  seemed  a  monstrous 
revolution,  a  calamitous  catastrophe,  the  prospect  of 
which  shocked  their  strongest  prepossessions,  and 
seemed  to  blast  their  dearest  hopes.  In  order  to  cor¬ 
rect  this  error,  and  prepare  the  way  for  the  event  so 
much  dreaded,  even  by  many  devout  Jews,  it  pleased 
God  to  adopt  a  method  which  should  symbolize,  and, 
as  it  were,  embody  the  true  relation  of  the  old  and 
new  economy,  and  the  change  by  which  the  one  was 
to  replace  the  other. 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


51 


To  secure  this  end,  Christ  did  not  come  abruptly, 
but  was  preceded  by  a  forerunner,  whose  personal 
relations  to  him,  and  whose  public  ministry,  present¬ 
ed,  in  a  kind  of  type  or  emblem,  the  peculiar  features 
of  the  Law  as  contrasted  with  the  Gospel — or  rather, 
exhibited,  at  one  view,  both  the  jDoints  of  resem¬ 
blance  and  of  dissimilitude.  These  points  are  obvious 
enough.  As,  on  the  one  hand,  both  the  old  and  the 
new  dispensation  were  alike  from  God,  equally  genuine 
and  equally  authoritative  ;  as  they  were  both  intend¬ 
ed  for  man’s  benefit,  and,  ultimately,  for  the  benefit 
of  men  in  general ;  as  the  grand  design  of  both  was 
moral  and  spiritual,  not  material  and  temjioral ;  so, 
on  the  other  hand,  while  one  was  provisional,  the 
other  was  permanent ;  one  was  preparatory  to  the 
other,  and  by  necessary  consequence,  inferior  in  dig¬ 
nity  ;  the  peculiar  features  of  the  one  were,  in  a  great 
measure,  arbitrary  and  conventional,  those  of  the  other, 
necessary  and  essential;  the  one  was  typical  and 
ceremonial  in  its  character,  the  other  spiritual  and 
substantial.  The  one  was  meant  to  teach  the  need 
and  excite  the  desire  of  what  could  be  fully  supplied 
only  by  the  other. 

These  resemblances  and  contrasts  of  the  two  great 
systems,  were  to  be  embodied  in  the  person  and  the 
ministry  of  two  individuals  as  their  representatives. 
Of  the  gospel,  no  such  representative  was  needed  ex¬ 
cept  Christ  himself  In  the  one  emjfioyed  to  repre¬ 
sent  the  Law,  it  might  have  been  expected  that  these 
prerequisites  would  meet ;  that  he  should  be  person¬ 
ally  near  akin  to  Him  whoso  way  he  came  to  pre¬ 
pare  ;  that  he  should  be  a  person  of  high  rank  and 


52 


SERMONS, 


sacred  dignity ;  tliat  he  should  live,  secluded  from  the 
rest  of  men,  a  life  of  abstinent  austerity  ;  that  the 
moral  tone,  both  of  his  doctrine  and  example,  should 
be  high ;  that  his  appeals  shonld  he  directly  to  the 
conscience,  and  intended  to  excite  the  sense  of  gnilt, 
danger,  want,  and  weakness  ;  that  for  this  very  rea¬ 
son,  his  entire  ministry  should  he  j)rospective  and 
23reparatory,  introductory  to  something  intrinsically 
better  and  practically  more  efficacious  than  itself.  All 
this  might  have  seemed  beforehand  necessary  in  the 
forerunner  who  was  to  symbolize  the  old  dispensa¬ 
tion,  as  distinguished  from  the  new;  and  all  this  was 
actually  realized  in  the  person  and  ministry  of  John 
the  Baptist.  He  was  a  kinsman  of  our  Lord  ;  he  was 
a  little  older,  both  in  person  and  in  office  ;  he  was  of 
sacerdotal  rank  and  lineage  ;  the  child  of  eminently 
pious  2)arents ;  one  whose  birth  had  been  announced 
and  accom]3anied  by  messages  from  heaven  and  re¬ 
markable  divine  interpositions ;  a  Hazarite  from  the 
womb ;  a  dweller  in  tlie  desert  from  early  youth 
“until  the  day  of  his  showing  unto  Israel.” 

"With  the  old  dis]3ensation  he  was  clearly  connected 
by  remarkable  ]Dro]Dhecies,  as  the  voice  of  one  crying 
in  the  wilderness.  Prepare  ye  the  way  of  the  Lord — 
as  the  messenger  who  should  come  before  the  face  of 
the  Angel  of  the  Covenant — as  the  new  Elijah  or 
Elias,  in  whose  ministry  the  spirit  and  j^ower  of  the 
old  reformer  were  to  be  revived  in  Judah,  scarcelv 
less  apostate  now  than  Israel  was  then.  His  con¬ 
nexion  with  the  old  dis^^ensation  was  made  still  more 
clear  and  marked,  by  external  coincidences,  provi¬ 
dentially  secured  and  made  conspicuous.  His  local 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


53 


habitation  carried  back  tlie  tbouglits  of  those  who  saw 
or  beard  him,  to  the  forty  years  error  in  the  desert, 
and  the  giving  of  the  law  upon  Mt.  Sinai.  His  minis¬ 
trations  at  the  Jordan  called  to  mind  the  passage  of 
that  river  at  the  conquest  of  Canaan.  His  hairy  gar¬ 
ments  and  abstemious  fare,  reminded  all  spectators  of 
the  prophets  in  general, and  Elijah  in  particular.  His 
distant  calls  upon  the  people  to  go  out  to  him,  in¬ 
stead  of  seeking  them  in  their  usual  places  of  resort, 
was  perfectly  analogous  to  the  segregation  and  seclu¬ 
sion  of  the  chosen  people  under  the  law,  and  to  the 
local  and  restrictive  institutions  of  the  law  itself. 

With  all  this  agreed  his  preaching,  which  was 
prejiaratory.  He  called  men  to  repentance,  as  essen¬ 
tial  to  remission  of  sins,  but  he  did  not  offer  remission 
itself.  He  preached  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  not  as 
already  established,  but  as  at  hand.  He  described 
himself  as  a  mere  forerunner,  inferior  in  dignity  and 
power  to  one  who  was  to  follow,  and  to  whom  he 
was  not  worthy,  in  his  own  strong  language,  to 
perform  the  menial  office  of  unlacing  or  carrying  his 
sandals. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  the  significant  rite,  by 
which  his  preaching  was  accompanied,  and  from 
which  he  derived  his  title.  The  baptism  of  John  was 
merely  the  forerunner  of  the  baptism  of  Christ — the 
baptism  of  repentance  as  distinguished  from  the  bap¬ 
tism  of  faith — the  baptism  of  water  as  distinguished 
from  the  baptism  of  fire  and  the  Holy  Ghost.  From 
all  this,  it  is  evident  that  John’s  preparatory  ministry 
was  2)erfectly  adapted  to  its  providential  purpose, 
that  of  embodying,  and,  as  it  were,  personifying  the 


54 


SERMONS. 


true  relation  of  the  old  dispensation  to  the  new,  of 
the  law  to  the  gospel,  not  as  rival  or  antagonistic  sys¬ 
tems,  but  as  the  beginning  and  the  end,  the  inception 
and  perfection  of  the  same  great  j)rocess. 

That  the  resemblance  of  the  type  and  the  things 
typified  might  be  complete,  it  was  ordered  that  John’s 
ministry,  instead  of  ceasing  when  our  Lord’s  began, 
should  be  contemporaneous  with  it  for  a  time,  just  as 
the  old  and  new  dispensations,  for  important  provi¬ 
dential  reasons,  were  to  merge  or  fade  into  each  other, 
without  any  clearly  defined  point  of  transition  or  line 
of  demarkation,  so  that  the  Church,  under  both  its 
manifestations,  might  maintain  its  identity,  and  be, 
like  its  master’s  robe,  without  seam,  woven  from  the 
top  throughout.”  (John  19,  23.)  The  consequence  of 
this  was,  that,  while  some  rejected  both,  and  some 
passed  through  J ohn’s,  as  a  preparatory  school  to  that 
of  Christ,  others  remained  in  it  after  its  preparatory 
work  was  done,  just  as  the  body  of  the  Jews  eventually 
clung  to  the  Mosaic  dispensation,  after  it  had  an¬ 
swered  its  design  and  been  suj)erseded  by  the  dispen¬ 
sation  of  the  Son  and  Spirit.  To  such  it  is  not,  per¬ 
haps,  surprising  that  the  proofs  of  the  Messiahship  of 
Jesus  should  have  seemed  inconclusive.  It  is  mucli 
more  surprising  that  the  faith  of  John  himself  should 
seem  to  waver,  after  his  imprisonment,  as  some  sup¬ 
pose  to  be  implied  in  his  message,  sent  by  two  of  his 
disciples  to  our  Lord :  Art  thou  he  that  is  to  come, 
or  are  we  waiting  for  another?  *  However  easy  it 
may  be  to  explain  this,  by  supposing  it  to  be  intended 
merely  to  confirm  the  faith  or  solve  the  doubts  of  his  dis¬ 
ciples,  neither  of  these  solutions  is  absolutely  needed,  or 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


55 


SO  natural  as  tliat  which,  supposes  that  the  message 
was  expressive  of  John’s  own  misgivings,  not  indeed 
as  to  the  person  of  Messiah,  which  had  been  made 
known  to  him  by  special  revelation,  and  to  which  he 
had  repeatedly  and  publicly  borne  witness,  but  with 
respect  to  our  Saviour’s  method  of  proceeding,  which 
appears  to  have  departed  too  much  from  the  spirit 
and  4he  forms  of  the  Old  Testament,  to  be  entirely 
satisfactory  or  even  intelligible  to  the  last  prophet  of 
the  old  economy,  whose  inspiration  did  not  reach  be¬ 
yond  the  close  of  the  system  which  was  done  away 
in  Christ.  The  person  of  Christ  himself,  as  the 
founder  of  a  new  dispensation,  he  distinctly  recognized, 
but  he  does  not  seem  to  have  been  prepared,  by  any 
divine  teaching,  for  the  total  revolution  in  the  exter¬ 
nal  mode  of  serving  God  and  saving  souls,  which  be¬ 
gan  to  be  disclosed  in  the  personal  ministry  of  Christ 
himself. 

That  this  is  the  true  solution  of  John’s  seeming: 
vacillation — namely,  that  he  still  stood  on  the  ground 
of  the  Old  Testament,  and  still  belonged  to  the  Jewish 
dispensation,  and  was,  therefore,  not  prepared,  with¬ 
out  a  special  revelation,  which  had  not  been  vouch¬ 
safed  to  him,  to  understand  or  appreciate  the  new 
state  of  things  which  Christ  had  partially  begun  to 
introduce — may  be  gathered  from  our  Saviour’s  treat¬ 
ment  of  his  message.  After  sending  back  the  mes¬ 
sengers,  with  a  reference  to  the  miracles  which  they 
beheld,  as  proofs  of  his  Messiahship,  he  seems  to  have 
hastened  to  prevent  any  unjust  or  unfavourable  infer¬ 
ences,  by  the  multitudes,  from  what  they  had  just 
heard,  as  if  John  the  Baptist  had  retracted  his  testb 


56 


SERMONS. 


monj,  or  wavered  in  liis  own  belief.  To  this  end,  lie 
reminded  them,  in  lively,  figurative  terms,  peculiarly 
adapted  to  afiect  an  oriental  audience,  that  when  they 
went  forth  in  such  vast  crowds  to  the  wilderness,  to 
hear  and  be  baptized  of  John,  the  man  wdiom  they 
had  sought  and  found  there,  was  like  any  thing  rather 
than  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind — a  man  of  versatile 
and  fickle  temper,  or  of  uncertain,  fiuctuating  judg¬ 
ment — and  like  any  thing  rather  than  a  softly  dressed 
and  smooth-tongued  courtier,  who  suppressed  the 
truth  to  fiatter  and  conciliate  his  hearers.  On  the 
contrary,  they  knew  that  John  the  Baptist  was  an 
eminently  bold,  uncompromising,  plain-sjDoken  wit¬ 
ness  to  the  truth  of  God,  and  against  the  sins  of  men. 
It  would  be  folly,  therefore,  to  suppose  that  his  public 
testimony  to  our  Lord’s  Messiahship,  was  either  given 
insincerely,  through  the  fear  of  men  and  the  desire  to 
please  them,  or  w^as  now  retracted,  from  a  wavering 
faith  or  fickleness  of  temper.  This  would  be  incon¬ 
ceivable  in  such  a  man,  though  uninspired  ;  how  much 
more  in  a  prophet — a  prophet  in  the  full  and  highest 
sense  of  the  Old  Testament  expression — a  prophet 
equal  in  authority  to  any  who  had  gone  before  him  ; 
nay,  in  one  respect  superior  to  them  all,  as  the  im¬ 
mediate  forerunner  of  the  new  dispensation,  as  the 
last  in  the  long  series  of  Old  Testament  prophets,  in 
whom  the  succession  was  to  cease,  or  from  whom  it 
was  to  pass  and  be  forever  merged  in  the  prophetic 
ministry  of  Christ  himself  All  the  prophets  of  the 
law,  i.  e.  all  the  prophetic  intimations  of  the  old 
economy,  whether  formal  predictions  or  typical  pre¬ 
figurations — not  excepting  the  general  prospective 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


57 


character  which  stamped  the  system  as  a  whole,  as 
well  as  some  of  its  more  salient  points — all  these,  our 
Saviour  tells  the  people,  prophesied  as  far  as  up  to 
John  the  Baptist;  not  that  he  was  the  great  end  to 
wl^ich  they  pointed, — this  was  Christ  himself,  as  John 
had  again  and  again  solemnly  declared, — but  he  was 
the  last  of  the  forerunners,  of  the  heralds  who  pro¬ 
claimed  the  advent  and  prepared  the  way  of  the  Great 
Deliverer;  down  to  John  the  Baptist,  and  including 
him,  this  preparatory  and  premonitory  system  still 
continued,  and  in  him,  as  the  immediate  predecessor 
of  the  Saviour,  it  must  have  an  end. 

The  very  same  considerations,  therefore,  which 
exalted  John  the  Baptist  in  the  scale  of  the  old  econo¬ 
my,  proved  that  he  belonged  to  it,  and  not  to  the  new. 
While  it  was  still  true  that  there  had  never  before 
appeared  a  greater  man,  when  measured  by  that 
standard,  it  was  equally  true  that  the  least  in  the  king¬ 
dom  of  heaven — the  new  dispensation — was  greater 
than  he,  i.  e.  more  enlightened  as  to  the  nature  ot' 
that  dispensation,  and  the  points  in  which  it  differed 
from  the  old,  and  better  able,  both  to  appreciate  and 
carry  into  execution  this  new  form  of  the  divine  ad¬ 
ministration,  than  even  the  greater  of  those,  who, 
though  invested  with  divine  authority,  w^ere  still  but 
ministers  of  the  old  restrictive  system,  and  might, 
therefore,  be  expected  to  feel  some  surprise,  if  not  dis¬ 
pleasure,  at  the  sudden  disuse  of  the  ancient  methods, 
the  neglect  of  mere  externals,  so  inseparable  from  re¬ 
ligion  under  the  Mosaic  institutions,  and  the  casting 
down  not  only  of  the  barriers  between  strict  Jews  and 
notorious -sinners  of  their  own  race,  but  between  that 

VOL.  II. — 3* 


58 


SERMONS. 


race  itself  and  tliose  from  wliicli  it  had  for  ages  dwelt 
aj)art,  a  change  already  unequivocally  intimated  in 
our  Lord’s  instructions  and  his  j)ractice,  and  which, 
viewed  from  the  ground  of  the  old  dispensation,  might 
well  seem  to  confound  unchangeable  distinctions  ^nd 
to  make  Christ  the  minister  of  sin. 

That  such  misapprehensions  should  exist  in  the 
mind  of  John  the  Baptist,  as  a  prophet  of  the  old  dis~ 
pensation,  is  certainly  less  strange,  and  in  itself  not 
more  incredible,  than  that  Peter,  even  after  the  effu¬ 
sion  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  day  of  Pentecost,  should 
have  still  cherished  the  belief  that,  although  the  Gen¬ 
tiles  might  be  saved  as  w^ell  as  Jews,  through  faith 
in  the  Pedeemer,  they  could  only  exercise  that  faith 
by  first  becoming  Jews,  or  conforming  to  the  law  of 
Moses.  Of  this  error  he  was  disabused  by  a  special 
revelation  ;  and  as  none  such  seems  to  have  been  sent 
to  John  the  Baptist,  it  is  not  surprising  that  without 
it,  and  in  prison,  he  should  have  looked  at  what  was 
going  on  beyond  the  walls  of  the  fortress  where  he 
lay,  with  the  eyes  of  an  Old  Testament  prophet,  rather 
than  with  those  of  a  Hew  Testament  saint. 

This  seems,  as  I  have  said,  to  be  implied  in  our 
Lord’s  vindication  of  him,  as  a  true  believer  and  a 
great  prophet,  but  still  a  minister  of  the  Old  Testa¬ 
ment,  not  of  the  Hew,  to  whom  the  freedom  and  en¬ 
largement  of  the  course  on  which  our  Lord  had  either 
actually  entered,  or  prospectively  marked  out  for  his 
apostles,  might  very  naturally  seem  to  be  a  general 
removal  of  old  landmarks,  and  a  lifting  of  the  fiood- 
gates  which  had  hitherto  shut  off  the  appropriated 
waters  of  tlie  Jewish  church  from  the  natural  stream 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


59 


and  ciiTrent  of  tlie  nations.  Even  in  vindicating:  John, 
our  Saviour  seems  to  intimate  that  this  distino;uished 

O 

prophet  had  been  led,  by  his  peculiar  position  with 
respect  to  the  outgoing  and  incoming  dispensation, 
to  expect  that  the  kingdom  of  Messiah  would  be  set 
up  by  a  methodical  and  formal  process,  perhaps  not 
without  a  large  admixture  of  ceremonial  services ;  at 
all  events,  with  due  conformity  to  ancient  usages  and 
regulations;  ‘^whereas,”  he  adds,  as  if  appealing  to 
their  own  observation  for  the  proof  of  the  assertion, 
from  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now,”  i.  e. 
since  the  work  of  my  forerunner  was  completed,  and 
my  own  begun,  “the  kingdom  of  heaven  sutfereth 
violence  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.” 

That  this  does  not  refer  to  persecution,  is  apparent 
from  the  notorious  fact,  that  the  only  persecution 
which  had  yet  taken  place,  was  that  of  John  himself, 
who  had  just  been  excluded  from  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  in  the  technical,  distinctive  sense,  or,  at  least, 
assigned  the  lowest  place  in  it,  which,  of  course,  for¬ 
bids  his  treatment  by  his  enemies  to  be  regarded  or 
described  as  that  experienced  by  the  kingdom  of 
lieaven.  Equally  incorrect  is  the  assumption,  that 
the  violence  here  mentioned  in  connexion  with  the 
kingdom  of  heaven,  is  active,  not  passive — the  king¬ 
dom  of  heaven  exercises  violence  or  irresistible  power 
over  men.  This  is  equally  at  variance  with  the  usage 
of  the  words  immediately  in  question  and  with  the 
other  clause — the  violent  take  it  by  force.  The  only 
natural  interpretation  is  the  one  which  takes  the 
whole  as  a  bold  and  strong,  but  striking  and  intelli¬ 
gible  figure,  to  denote  the  eagerness  and  freedom  from 


60 


SERMONS. 


restraint,  witli  wliicli  men  of  every  class  and  character, 
Pharisees  and  publicans,  reputed  saints  and  sinners, 
Jews  and  Gentiles,  had  begun  or  were  soon  to  begin 
to  press  into  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  through  or  over 
every  barrier,  moral,  legal,  ceremonial,  or  natural 
distinction. 

The  particular  image  most  readily  suggested  by 
the  words,  is,  perhaps,  that  of  a  fortress  long  main¬ 
tained  by  a  veteran  garrison,  but  suddenly  thrown 
open  by  its  new  commander,  and  impetuously  entered 
by  what  seems  to  be  a  multitude  of  foes.  To  those 
within,  this  might  well  appear  to  put  an  end  to  the 
defence  and  to  decide  the  contest.  But  after  a  while 
it  is  perceived  that  those  who  have  thus  tumultuously 
entered,  are  not  enemies,  but  friends,  and  that  this 
violent  accession  to  the  strength  of  the  defence  is 
more  effective  than  any  which  could  have  been  se¬ 
cured  by  gradual  recruitings  or  occasional  desertions 
from  the  enemy,  however  necessary  these  resources 
may  be  when  the  other  fails,  or  in  the  intervals  be¬ 
tween  these  sudden  and  extensive  movements  from 
without  to  the  interior  of  the  fortress  or  the  besieged 
town.  In  some  j)oints  this  comparison,  like  every 
other,  does  not  hold  good ;  but  it  may  serve  to  illus¬ 
trate  the  essential  difference  between  John  the  Bap¬ 
tist’s  expectations,  and  the  course  actually  taken  by 
our  Saviour,  and  referred  to  in  the  words  of  the  text : 
“  From  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now,  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence,  and  the  violent 
take  it  by  force.” 

The  circumstances  of  the  case  to  which  these 
words  had  primary  reference,  were  so  peculiar,  so  in- 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


61 


capable  of  repetition  or  recurrence,  that  it  may  seem 
impossible  to  draw  from  them  any  lesson  directly  ap¬ 
plicable  to  ourselves  or  to  the  actual  condition  of  the 
church  or  of  the  world.  It  is  not,  however,  as  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  historical  curiosity,  an  interesting  reminiscence 
of  antiquity,  that  this  and  many  other  similar  dis¬ 
courses  of  our  Saviour  have  been  left  on  record.  They 
were  rather  intended  to  exemplify  the  nature  and  dis¬ 
tinctive  character  of  his  kingdom,  as  distinguished 
not  only  from  all  false  religions,  but  from  all  that  was 
temporary  in  the  ancient  manifestation  of  the  true, 
and  thereby  to  preserve  us  from  falling  into  errors 
i  which  were  committed  and  corrected  eighteen  centu 

'  lies  ago.  We  are,  therefore,  at  liberty,  nay  bound, 

i  to  apply  these  instructions  to  our  own  use,  not  by  fan- 

I  ciful  accommodation,  not  by  allegorical  confusion  of 
i  things  utterly  distinct,  but  by  a  fair  application  of 
I  the  principle  involved  in  the  original  case  to  any  other 
j  case,  however  distant  and  however  different  in  form 
i  and  circumstance,  to  which  that  principle  is  natu- 

||  rally  applicable.  Let  us  briefly  inquire  then,  in  the 

i'  present  instance,  wherein  the  essence  of  the  error  here 
i  exposed  consisted,  and  what  analogous  forms  of  error 
I  may  exist  among  ourselves. 

f  That  the  old  dispensation,  while  it  lasted,  was  en- 
li  titled  to  respect  as  a  divine  institution,  if  it  needed 
i  any  proof,  might  be  established,  both  by  the  precept 
i  and  example  of  our  Saviour.  Even  after  it  was  vir¬ 
tually  abrogated  by  the  death  and  resurrection  and 
ascension  of  our  Lord  and  by  the  advent  of  the  Holy 
I  Spirit,  the  apostles,  acting  by  divine  direction,  still 
I  paid  a  certain  tribute  of  respect  to  the  framework  of 

I 

1, 

I 


62 


SERMONS. 


the  old  economy,  until  it  was  forever  shaken  down 
and  scattered  by  a  great  convulsion.  The  error  now 
in  question,  therefore,  did  not  lie  in  any  undue  def¬ 
erence  to  the  Law  as  a  temporary  system,  hut  in 
making  it  the  standard  and  the  rule  of  God’s  most 
gracious  dispensations  under  an  entirely  different  state 
of  things;  and  more  particularly  in  supposing,  that 
access  to  the  Messiah’s  kingdom  was  to  he  as  cir¬ 
cuitous  and  slow  and  ceremonious,  as  the  approach  of 
Gentile  converts  to  the  altar  and  the  oracle  of  God 
had  been  for  ages,  when,  in  fact,  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  had  already  begun  to  suffer  violence,  and  the 
violent  were  actually  taking  it  by  force. 

Into  this  identical  mistake  there  is,  of  course,  no 
danger  of  our  falling.  The  change  of  circumstances 
already  spoken  of,  has  rendered  it  impossible.  But 
may  not  a  kindred  error,  and  one  equally  pernicious, 
be  committed  now?  God  has  appointed  certain 
means  to  be  assiduouslv  used  for  the  extension  of  the 
church  and  the  conversion  of  the  world.  The  obliga¬ 
tion  to  employ  these  means  is  imperative,  and  can¬ 
not  be  dispensed  with.  The  very  fact  of  their  divine 
authority  entitles  us  to  look  for  the  most  salutary 
effects  from  their  constant  and  faithful  application. 
We  cannot  err,  therefore,  by  excess  in  the  employ¬ 
ment  of  these  means.  But  may  we  not  err  by  limiting 
the  Holy  One  himself  to  means — even  those  which  he 
has  sanctioned  and  blessed  ?  May  we  not  err  by  sup¬ 
posing,  that  because  it  is  our  duty  to  make  constant, 
prayerful,  and  believing  use  of  these  means,  and  to 
watch  for  their  effect,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  ex¬ 
pected — even  from  the  free  and  sovereign  operation  of 


MATTHEW  11,  12.  ’  03 

divine  grace  ?  In  other  words,  by  looking  too  much, 
or,  at  least,  too  exclusively,  at  the  ordinary  results  of 
ordinary  means,  may  we  not  cease  to  hope  for  those 
extraordinary  gifts,  with  which  the  Lord  is  sometimes 
pleased,  as  it  were,  to  reward  the  faithful  use  of  the 
stated  and  appointed  means  of  grace  ? 

There  is  no  doubt  an  opposite  error,  into  which  we 
are  no  less  prone  to  fall,  and  from  which  the  Church 
has  suffered  incalculable  loss  and  damage.  This  is 
the  error  of  expecting  all  from  God’s  extraordinary 
gifts,  to  the  exclusion  of  those  stated  means  which  he 
has  ordained,  and  on  which  he  has  not  only  promised 
but  bestowed  a  blessing.  This  error,  pushed  to  an 
extreme,  becomes  fanaticism,  and  is  the  fruitful  source 
of  doctrinal  corruptions,  practical  abuses,  spiritual 
pride,  and  all  the  other  evils  springing  from  a  violent 
excitement  followed  by  reaction  towards  the  opposite 
extreme  of  lethargy  and  deadness.  The  error  which 
jwoduces  all  these  evils,  does  not  merely  lie  in  the 
denial  or  oblivion  of  the  fact  that  God’s  extraordinary 
blessings  must,  from  their  very  nature,  be  occasional, 
but  also  in  denying  or  forgetting  that  extraordinary 
gifts  are,  according  to  a  law  of  God’s  most  gracious 
dispensations,  not  bestowed  at  random,  but  conferred 
as  blessings  on  the  faithful  use  of  ordinary  means. 

To  expect  an  extraordinary  harvest,  without  using 
the  means  necessary  to  secure  an  ordinary  one,  would 
be  scarcely  more  absurd  than  to  concentrate  all  our 
hopes  and  wishes  on  extraordinary  spiritual  visita¬ 
tions,  while  we  wilfully  or  negligently  slight  the  stated 
and  invariable  means  of  doing  and  obtaining  good, 
on  which  God  sometimes  sets  the  seal  of  his  approval 


04  SERMONS. 

by  remarkable  outpourings  of  bis  spirit.  As  tbe 
manna  in  tlie  wilderness  did  not  take  tbe  place  of 
ordinary  food,  but  supplied  its  deficiencies,  and  fur- 
nisbed  special  proofs  of  tbe  divine  presence  and  favour 
to  bis  people;  so  tbe  greatest  spiritual  gifts  to  tbe 
Cburcb  now,  are  not  intended  to  supplant  tbe  use  'of 
ordinary  means,  but  ratber  to  encourage  it  by  signs 
of  tbe  divine  approbation;  and  tbe  bope  of  sucb  ex¬ 
traordinary  gifts  is  never  better  founded  than  at  those 
times  wben,  instead  of  intermitting  ordinary  duties, 
wm  perform  them  witli  redoubled  zeal. 

But  no  extreme  of  judgment  or  of  practice  is  to 
be  corrected  by  another.  While  we  shun  the  error 
of  relying  on  extraordinary  gifts  as  a  substitute  for 
ordinary  duties,  or  as  an  apology  for  slighting  them, 
let  us  not  lose  sight  of  sucb  extraordinary  gifts  alto¬ 
gether,  or  regard  them  as  impossible  and  hopeless,  or 
as  inconsistent  with  tbe  faithful  use  of  ordinary 
means.  By  so  doing,  wm  gratuitously  throw  away 
one  of  tbe  most  powerful  incitements  to  duty,  and 
most  efficacious  stimulants  to  bope  and  zeal.  I^otb- 
ing  is  better  suited  to  invigorate  habitual  exertion 
than  a  firm  belief  that  God  bestows  bis  most  invalu¬ 
able  and  special  gifts  on  sucb  as  diligently  seek  for 
those  of  a  more  ordinary  nature.  To  relinquish  this 
belief  and  bope,  is  to  cut  tbe  sinews  of  our  spiritual 
strength  even  in  relation  to  our  ordinary  duties.  At 
tbe  same  time,  this  extreme  of  error  and  misconduct 
tends  more  directly  to  diminish  the  amount  of  good 
which  we  might  otherwise  accomplish.  While  it  still 
remains  indisputably  true,  that  the  extension  of  the 
Chruch  and  the  conversion  of  the  world  are  suspended, 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


65 


under  God,  upon  tlie  constant  use  of  ordinary  means, 
for  the  neglect  of  which  nothing  can  compensate  or 
atone;  it  is  equally  certain  that  the  aggregate  result 
of  these  means  would  he  comparatively  small,  without 
occasional  accessions  of  divine  and  human  strength, 
making  good,  as  it  were  by  a  single  movement,^  the 
arrears  of  many  years;  and  giving  a  new  impulse  to 
those  means  which,  though  they  cannot  be  dispensed 
with,  are  too  apt,  in  human  hands,  to  grow  inert  and 
inefficient,  unless  frequently  renewed  and  set  in  mo¬ 
tion  by  a  special  divine  influence.  In  other  words, 
and  in  accordance  with  the  figurative  language  of  the 
text,  although  the  kingdom  of  heaven,  even  now,  as 
when  it  was  first  visibly  erected  upon  earth,  must 
grow  by  constant  gradual  accession,  and  although,  if 
this  mode  of  increase  should  fail,  its  place  could  be 
supplied  by  nothing  else,  yet  even  this  increase  is 
stimulated,  and  the  aggregate  result  indefinitely  mul¬ 
tiplied,  by  those  occasional  seasons  of  awakening  and 
commotion,  when  the  kingdom  of  heaven  suifereth 
violence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.” 

I  rejoice  to  know  that  I  address  some,  I  trust 
many,  to  whom  the  extension  of  this  kingdom  is  a 
subject  of  intense  desire  and  fervent  prayer.  But  do 
the  hopes  of  such  bear  due  proportion  to  their  con¬ 
scientious  labours  and  their  zeal  for  God  ?  Are  we 
not,  Christian  brethren,  too  prone  to  despondency,  as 
well  as  to  presumption  and  security  ;  extremes  which 
are  continually  found  in  close  proximity,  not  only 
among  members  of  the  same  community,  but  in  the 
vacillating,  varying  experience  of  one  and  the  same 
person  ?  And  may  not  one  of  these  extremes  at  least. 


6G 


SERMONS. 


arise  from  tlie  inistalve  wliicli  we  liave  been  consider¬ 
ing,  the  mistaken  notion  that  because  Clirist’s  kingdom 
must  be  bnilt  np  by  a  slow  and  sure  increase,  there 
is  no  such  thing  to  be  expected  as  a  general  and 
powerful  commotion  of  men’s  minds,  producing  the 
same  result  upon  a  larger  scale  and  in  a  shorter  time ; 
that  because  that  vast  reservoir  of  God’s  grace  and 
man’s  happiness  is  fed  by  rivulets  and  drops  in  or¬ 
dinary  times,  there  is  no  such  thing  to  be  expected  as 
the  sight  of  an  irresistible  current  impetnonsly  setting 
in  the  same  direction  ;  that  because  we  are  accus¬ 
tomed  to  see  men  gained  over,  one  by  one,  from  the 
service  of  Satan  and  the  world  to  that  of  God,  there 
is  no  such  thing  to  be  expected  in  our  days  as  that  of 
the  kingdom  of  heaven  sutfering  violence,  and  the 
violent  taking  it  by  force  ?  Oh,  let  us  see  to  it,  that 
even  our  attachment  to  the  stated  ordinary  means  of 
grace,  and  our  well-founded  fears  of  spurious  and  fanat¬ 
ical  excitements,  do  not  unfit  us  for  the  reception  of 
extraordinary  mercies,  and  betray  us,  for  a  time  at 
least,  into  unreasonable  trust  in  accustomed  forms 
and  methods,  and  a  groundless  dread  of  irregularity 
and  insubordination,  simply  because  in  this  day,  as 
in  that  day,  “  the  kingdom  of  heaven  suftereth  vio¬ 
lence,  and  the  violent  take  it  by  force.” 

Is  there  not  still  a  class  to  whom  I  may,  without 
oftence,  address  myself  in  terms  of  solemn  warning 
and  entreaty,  in  application  of  the  subject  which  has 
been  before  us  ?  I  mean  such  as  have  long  enjoyed 
the  stated  dispensation  of  God’s  word,  but  as  yet  seem 
not  to  have  experienced  its  power.  To  such  I  venture 
to  address  myself  directly,  and  to  put  the  question, 


MATTHEW  11,  12. 


67 


Are  you  not,  perliaps  imcoiiscioiisly,  relying  on  tliis 
passive  enjoyment  of  religious  privileges  as  a  means 
of  safety,  independent  of  all  serious  reflection  or  ex¬ 
ertion  on  your  own  part  ?  Such  a  state  of  mind  may 
be  produced  by  a  misapprehension  or  abuse  of  the 
doctrines  which  you  have  ever  been  faithfully  taught, 
of  God’s  sovereignty  and  man’s  dependence.  But 
this  only  makes  your  .error  more  alarming,  and  your 
danger  more  imminent.  God  is  indeed  the  only 
Saviour,  the  aljiha  and  omega  of  our  hopes,  the 
author  and  the  finisher  of  our  salvation ;  but  he  does  not 
save  men  in  their  sleep,  or  carry  them  to  heaven  stu¬ 
pefied  in  deathlike  lethargy.  If  he  means  to  save  you, 
be  assured  he  will  awaken  you.  However  various 
the  degrees  and  forms  of  that  alarm  which  enters  into 
all  evangelical  repentance,  or  prepares  the  way  for  it, 
you  must  experience  some  disturbance  of  your  long 
and  deep  sleep  of  security.  If  the  absence  of  any 
such  emotion  is  the  fault  of  God  himself,  derive  what 
consolation  you  find  possible  from  this  blasphemous 
apology;  but  do  not  forget  that  after  all,  whatever  be 
the  cause,  and  wherever  the  blame  lies,  your  deep 
sleep  must  be  broken  or  you  never  will  be  saved. 
With  all  allowance  for  the  freedom  and  variety  of 
God’s  dispensations  towards  the  souls  of  men,  and  for 
the  difference  produced  by  constitution,  education, 
and  the  previous  mode  of  life,  it  is  still  true  that  you 
cannot  doze  or  dream  yourself  into  salvation  ;  that  in 
some  sense,  and  to  some  extent,  a  vehement  exertion 
is  required  and  produced  in  every  soul  to  which  God 
has  purposes  of  mercy;  and  that  this  is  not  peculiar  to 
one  age  or  country,  but  characteristic  of  God’s  saving 


68 


SERMONS. 


metliods  in  all  times  and  places.  So  that  in  a  certain 
sense  it  may  still  be  truly  and  emphatically  said  that 
“from  the  days  of  John  the  Baptist  until  now,  the 
kingdom  of  heaven  sntfereth  violence,  and  the  violent 
take  it  by  force.” 


Isaiah  65,  1. — Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters, 
and  he  that  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat :  yea,  come,  buy 
wine  and  milk,  without  money  and  without  pidce. 


As  Christ  came  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which 
was  lost,  his  servants  must  do  likewise.  Their  work, 
like  their  Master’s,  is  to  save  lost  souls.  They  cannot 
save,  like  him,  by  their  own  power  or  merit.  But  as 
instruments  in  his  hands  they  may  be  the  means  of 
saving.  ISTot  the  preacher  only,  bnt  the  humblest 
Christian  in  his  little  sphere,  is  bound,  in  some  way, 
and  in  some  degree,  to  seek  and  to  save  that  which  is 
lost.  With  this  commission  we  are  all  sent  forth. 
We  are  not  sent  to  a  world  which  is  merely  in  danger 
of  being  lost.  It  is  lost.  It  is  condemned  already. 
The  gospel  is  not  merely  a  method  of  prevention,  but 
of  cure.  Christ  came  to  save  that  which  was  lost  al¬ 
ready,  and  to  seek  it,  in  order  that  it  might  be  saved, 
and  we,  as  his  instruments,  are  bound  to  seek  the  lost 
that  we  may  save  them.  We  are  not  to  keep  back  the 
salvation  of  the  gospel  till  men  seek  it  for  themselves. 
W e  must  olfer  it  to  them.  W e  must  press  it  upon  them. 
We  must  not  only  spread  the  feast,  but  bid  men  to  it. 


70 


SERMONS. 


It  is  oiir  business  to  invite  men  to  tbe  Saviour.  "We 
must  therefore  learn  the  art  of  invitation.  And  we 
cannot  learn  it  better  than  from  God’s  example.  The 
Bible  is  full  of  invitations,  varied  in  form,  but  alike  in 
principle,  proceeding  from  the  same  source,  addressed 
to  the  same  objects,  and  conveying  the  same  offer. 
Let  these  invitations  be  the  models  of  our  own,  and 
let  us,  upon  this  occasion,  take  a  lesson  from  the  one 
before  us,  which  is  among  the  most  earnest,  free,  im¬ 
portunate,  and  touching  in  the  Word  of  God. 

In  order  to  appreciate  and  understand  it,  let  us 
look  back  for  a  moment  to  what  goes  before.  After 
various  partial  exhibitions  of  the  Saviour  as  a  prophet 
or  divine  teacher,  he  is  fully  set  before  us  in  the'  fifty- 
third  chapter  as  a  priest  and  sacrifice,  w^ho  bore  our 
griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows,  who  was  wounded  for 
our  transgressions  and  bruised  for  our  iniquities,  upon 
whom  the  chastisement  of  our  peace  fell,  and  by 
whose  stripes  we  are  healed,  upon  whom  the  Lord 
laid  the  iniquities  of  us  all,  who  was  stricken  for  the 
transgressions  of  his  people,  who  made  his  soul  an 
offering  for  sin,  who  justified  many  by  bearing  their 
iniquities,  who  poured  out  his  soul  unto  death  and 
was  numbered  with  the  transgressors,  who  bare  the 
sins  of  many  and  made  intercession  for  the  transgres¬ 
sors.  These  strong  expressions,  which  are  all  coll¬ 
ected  from  that  one  short  chapter,  leave  no  doubt 
as  to  its  subject.  The  utmost  ingenuity  of  elews 
and  Gentiles  has  been  baffled  in  the  effort  to  invent 
another. 

Here,  then,  the  foundation  of  the  sinner’s  hope  is 
laid,  the  only  one  that  can  be  laid,  “  for  there  is  no 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


71 


otlier  name  given  under  heaven  among  men  whereby 
we  mnst  he  saved.”  In  the  lifty-fonrth  chapter,  the 
Church  is  assured  that  notwithstanding  her  afflictions, 
she  shall  taste  the  fruit  of  this  great  expiation.  She 
is  exliorted  to  prepare  for  an  immense  accession ;  to 
enlarge  the  place  of  her  tent,  and  stretch  forth  the 
curtain  of  her  habitations,  to  lengthen  her  cords  and 
strengthen  her  stakes.  She  is  told  that  her  seed  shall 
inherit  the  Gentiles,  that  although  her  national  pre¬ 
eminence  shall  cease,  her  spiritual  greatness  shall  he 
vastly  magnified  hy  being  rendered  co-extensive  with 
the  earth ;  that  her  children  shall  he  taught  of  .the 
Lord,  and  great  shall  be  the  peace  of  her  children ; 
that  no  weapon  formed  against  her  shall  prosper,  and 
that  every  tongue  which  rises  against  her  shall  he 
condemned.  “  This  is  the  heritage  of  the  servants  of 
the  Lord,  and  their  ri2:hteousness  is  of  me,  saith  the 
Lord.” 

Having  thus  assured  the  Church  of  her  enlarge¬ 
ment  and  prosperity,  the  prophet  takes  a  wider  range ; 
he  looks  towards  those  from  among  whom  this  acces¬ 
sion  to  the  Church  is  to  he  gathered ;  he  remembers 
the  mixed  multitude  of  lost  men  who  are  wandering 
in  the  wilderness,  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of 
Israel,  and  strangers  from  the  covenants  of  promise, 
lie  sees  them  fainting  there  with  spiritual  thirst,  a 
i  sense  of  guilt,  an  undefined,  uneasy  longing  after 
!  something  not  possessed ;  something  as  necesary  to 
refresh  the  soul  as  water  to  the  panting  hart,  or  to 
the  gasping  Arab  in  the  desert.  He  sees  them  not 
,  only  parched  with  thirst,  hut  gnawed  hy  hunger : 
nature  craves  something  to  support  as  well  as  to  re- 


SERMONS. 


Y2 

fresli  her,  and  in  obedience  to  her  call,  lie  sees  them 
labouring  with  desperate  exertion  to  dig  np  some  nu¬ 
tritions  root,  or  some  buried  fragment  from  the  burn¬ 
ing  sand.  He  sees  them  wading  through  that  soil  of 
hre  to  some  distant  shrub  which  holds  out  the  last 
dying  hope  of  food,  and  as  they  reach  it,  he  beholds 
them  turn  away  from  its  barren  stalk  and  withered 
leaves,  to  lie  down  in  despair,  while  others  scarcely 
less  exhausted,  follow  in  the  same  vain  search. 

Such  scenes  are  not  uncommon  in  the  deserts  of 
the  east,  where  men  are  often  found  to  choose  be¬ 
tween  starvation  and  the  use  of  food  from  which 
nature  even  in  extremity  revolts,  while  the  agony  of 
thirst  is  rendered  ten  times  more  acute  by  the  deceit¬ 
ful  water  of  the  desert  which  becomes  hot  sand  upon 
the  traveller’s  approach.  And  yet  all  this  is  nothing 
more  than  a  faint  image  of  the  desert  in  which 
men  are  born,  and  where  they  wander  till  reclaimed 
by  God  ;  a  desert  which  is  not  without  its  hot 
sands  and  its  leafless  shrubs,  its  weariness,  its  bit¬ 
ter  pangs,  its  thirst,  its  famine,  rendered  more  tor¬ 
menting  by  the  cruel  mockery  of  its  illusions.  This 
is  the  picture  which  the  world  presents  to  every  eye 
from  which  the  scales  have  fallen.  This  is  the  picture 
which  the  prophet  seems  to  have  beheld  in  vision 
when  he  stood  upon  the  walls  of  Zion,  and  looked  far 
off  into  the  recesses  '  of  that  desert  stretching  all 
around  her,  out  of  which  he  knew  that  some  were  to 
be  gathered  into  Zion,  and  at  which  he  therefore 
gazes  with  a  yearning  pity ;  not  his  own  merely, 
but  the  pity  of  that  God  whose  Spirit  gave  him  utter¬ 
ance. 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


73 


For  as  lie  looks  lie  speaks,  lie  cries  aloud,  as  if  to 
persons  at  a  distance.  He  no  longer  addresses  liim- 
self  merely  to  tlie  clinrcli.  Flis  language  is  as  wide 
and  compreliensive  as  tlie  sins  and  wants  of  suffering 
Imnianity.  It  is  to  men  as  men  that  lie  appeals. 
“  Unto  yon,  O  men,  I  call,  and  my  voice  is  to  the 
sons  of  man,”  without  distinction  or  exception.  “  Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth !  ”  He  does  not  say  every 
child  of  Israel.  He  does  not  say  every  godly  prose¬ 
lyte.  He  does  not  say  every  upright,  blameless  man. 
He  does  not  even  say  every  one  who  repents,  or 
every  one  who  believes,  but  every  one  who  thirsts. 
He  presupposes  nothing  but  a  sense  of  need ;  no 
knowledge,  but  the  consciousness  of  misery  and  help¬ 
lessness  ;  not  even  a  knowledge  of  the  method  of  sal¬ 
vation.  Here  then  it  is  thus  that  God  begins  his 
invitations.  He  appeals  to  that  uneasy  sense  of 
something  needed,  what  or  why  the  sinner  knows 
not ;  to  the  spiritual  thirst  by  which  his  soul  is 
parched,  he  knows  not  how.  Where  this  exists,  no 
other  qualification  is  demanded. 

That  so  few  accept  of  it  is  not  owing  to  the  want 
of  freeness  in  the  offer,  nor  to  the  want  of  merit  in 
those  whom  it  is  made  to.  But  they  will  not  hear. 
The  voice  cries  in  the  wilderness,  but  those  to  whom 
it  is  addressed  refuse  to  hear.  Or  if  they  listen,  it  is 
so  incredulously  that  they  hear  in  vain.  If  their  at¬ 
tention  could  be  fixed  but  for  a  moment,  they  would 
surely  hear  in  earnest.  When  the  starved  and  pant- 
ing  pilgrim,  as  he  lies  extended  in  the  desert,  hears  a 
distant  cry,  exhaustion  may  have  stupefied  him  so 
that  ho  regards  it  not.  Or  if  the  sound  arouses  him, 

VOL.  II. — 4 


SERMONS. 


u 

lie  may  mistake  it  for  tlie  cry  of  the  wild  beast,  or 
the  voice  of  other  sufferers  like  himself.  But  if  these 
words  distinctly  fall  upon  his  ear,  “  Ho,  every  one  that 
tliirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,”  unless  despair  has 
made  him  utterly  incredulous,  he  must  be  startled 
and  aroused.  And  even  though  he  deem  the  tidings 
too  good  to  be  true,  he  will  at  least  put  forth  one 
effort  more  to  reach  the  spot  from  which  the  sound 
comes. 

But,  alas !  in  the  spiritual  desert  it  is  harder  to  gain 
the  ear  of  those  who  are  dying  with  thirst,  even  by 
urgent  calls  to  drink  and  live.  They  are  the  subjects 
of  pei’petual  illusion.  They  continue  still  to  hope 
for  quick  relief  from  some  phantasma,  some  deceitful 
sight  or  sound,  in  chase  of  which  they  will  not  listen 
to  the  only  voice  which  offers  them  substantial  relief. 
Think  how  constantly  the  offers  of  the  gospel  are  re¬ 
iterated  in  the  ears  of  thousands  who  are  really 
atliirst,  wdiose  life  is  spent  in  seeking  to  allay  that 
inward  thirst  by  copious  draughts  of  knowledge, 
fame,  or  pleasure,  or  by  filling  their  parched  mouths 
wnth  the  burning  sand  of  this  world’s  ffains.  Thev 
are  partly  conscious  of  a  void  within  them  which  the 
Avorld  can  never  fill,  and  yet  the  only  voice  of  invita¬ 
tion  which  they  will  not  hear  is  that  of  God  crying. 
Ho,  every  one  that  tliirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters.” 
The  only  stream  at  which  they  will  not  try  to  slako 
their  thirst  is  the  river  of  the  water  of  life.  What 
shall  be  done  then  ?  Shall  the  offer  be  suspended  ? 
Shall  the  voice  of  invitation  be  less  loud  and  uro^ent  ? 
Ho,  let  those  who  utter  it  cry  aloud  and  spare  not. 
Let  no  deluded  soul  be  lost,  because  the  calls  of  sal- 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


75 

vation  were  too  faint  and  few  ^  It  is  true  tlie  ciy  will 
never  be  obeyed,  nor  even  listened  to  until  tlie  ear  is 
sup ernatn rally  opened.  Till  tben,  the  sinner  will  be 
deaf  as  the  adder  to  the  voice  of  tlie  cliarmer  cliarm- 
ing  never  so  wdsely.  And  the  Cliristian’s  consolation 
under  all  discouragement  from  man’s  unwillingness 
to  bear  is  tins,  that  the  call  is  God’s  call,  and  that 
when  he  pleases,  he  can  render  it  effectual. 

But  while  we  draw  from  this  consideration  all  the 
comfort  which  it  is  ada]3ted  to  afford,  let  it  not  be 
’made  a  pretext  for  unfaithfulness  or  negligence  in 
doing  our  part  as  the  messengers  of  Christ.  While 
it  is  certain  that  no  soul  will  perish  which  does  not 
abundantly  deserve  to  die;  and  on  the  other  hand 
that  none  whom  God  elects  to  everlasting  life  will  fail 
to  hear  the  voice  which  calls  them  to  the  fountain  of 
salvation;  it  is  also  certain  that  the  loss  of  some  sin¬ 
ners  will  bring  aggravated  guilt  upon  the  souls  of 
those  who  should  have  called  them  and  who  did  not; 
or  who  called  so  faintly  that  it  never  reached  tlie  ears 
of  those  to  whom  the  word  was  sent,  or  if  it  reached 
their  ears,  it  never  touched  their  hearts,  so  calmly 
and  so  coldly  was  the  invitation  uttered. 

Let  us  ask  ourselves  this  question :  Are  the  calls 
and  invitations  of  the  gospel,  at  this  moment,  uttered 
loud  enough  ?  Are  there  voices  enough  joining  in  the 
cry,  to  make  it  audible  ?  Is  it  heard  in  the  desert  ? 
Is  it  heard  in  those  dark  places  of  the  earth  wliich  are 
fall  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty  ?  Is  our  voice  heard 
there,  tlirough  the  messengers  whom  wo  have  sent? 
Is  it  lieard  at  home  ?  Even  among  ourselves  is  tlie 
cry  as  loud  and  piercing  as  it  ought  to  be  ?  Even 


76 


SERMONS. 


where  purity  of  doctrine  is  maintained,  and  where 
the  evidence  of  practical  religion  does  exist,  may  there 
not  be  a  want  of  earnestness  and  fervour  in  proclaim¬ 
ing  that  which  is  really  believed?  May  not  the 
very  dread  of  spurious  excitement,  which  the  church 
has  seen  abundant  cause  to  feel,  be  pushed  so  far  as_ 
to  produce  a  coldness  and  appearance  of  indifference 
in  publishing  the  offers  of  the  gospel,  which  amounts, 
in  practical  effect,  almost  to  a  denial  of  the  very 
truths  affirmed,  and  a  retracting  of  the  invitations 
offered  ?  It  is  a  question  to  be  seriously  pondered,' 
whether  much  of  the  indifference  with  which  the  in¬ 
vitations  of  the  gospel  are  received,  does  not  arise 
from  the  apparent  absence  of  all  lively  feeling  on  the 
part  of  those  who  make  them.  And  this,  not  only  in 
relation  to  the  public  formal  preaching  of  the  word, 
but  also  in  reference  to  those  private  occasions  iqDon 
which  the  individual  Christian  may  be  called  to  say 
to  those  who  hear  his  voice,  ‘Mid,  every  one  that 
thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters  !  ”  Let  the  invita¬ 
tions  which  we  offer  in  the  name  of  Christ,  be,  like  his 
own,  earnest  and  free,  addressed  to  all  who  feel  the 
need  of  them.  “  IIo,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come 
ye  to  the  waters !  ” 

The  figures  here  used  need  but  little  exj)lanatioD, 
and  that  little  only  to  secure  a  just  discrimination  be¬ 
tween  things  which  differ.  The  same  divine  grace  is  ex¬ 
hibited  under  three  distinct  aspects ;  water  reh-eshes, 
milk  nourishes,  wine  cheers.  To  the  thirsty  soul  tlie 
prophet  offers  water,  to  the  famished  milk,  to  the  de¬ 
spondent  wine.  The  same  grace  which  relieves 
our  spiritual  lassitude  and  ^veariness  of  life,  re- 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


77 


moves  the  cause  of  these  distressing  symptoms,  by 

materials  of  spiritual  strength,  feed¬ 
ing  the  soul  with  knowledge — not  only  religious  but 
experimental  knowledge — and  the  same  grace  which 
thus  strengthens,  while  it  gives  repose,  goes  further, 
and  produces  holy  joy.  To  all  this  the  sinner  is  in¬ 
vited  in  the  gospel.  Is  he  thirsty  ?  Is  he  conscious 
of  a  want  within  him  which  must  be  supplied  before 
he  can  enjoy  repose,  and  does  he  find  that  this  vague 
feeling  of  deficiency  is  more  distressing,  the  more  un¬ 
defined  it  is?  And  does  this  exhaust  and  as  it  were 
dry  up  the  very  fountains  of  his  life,  with  an  effect 
equivalent  to  that  of  parching  thirst,  until  his  soul  is 
ready  to  cry  out.  My  moisture  is  turned  into  the 
drought  of  summer  ?  Even  amidst  the  press  of  secu¬ 
lar  employments  and  the  whirl  of  frantic  gaiety,  this 
thirst  of  spirit  has  been  often  felt ;  nay,  it  has  been 
itself  the  means  of  plunging  men  in  business  or  in 
pleasure,  in  the  hbpe  of  extinguishing  that  fever  in 
the  veins  which  will  not  let  them  rest.  But  in  vain 
do  they  drink  at  the  polluted  springs  of  23leasure  and 
the  broken  cisterns  of  man’s  wisdom ;  the  fire  still 
rages — it  consumes  and  exhausts  them  more  and 
more,  until  at  last,  the  excitement  of  unsatisfied  de¬ 
sire  subsides  into  a  desperate  apathy,  beneath  which 
smoulder  the  remains  of  half-quenched  passions, 
wdiich,  if  once  rekindled,  will  burn  unto  the  lowest 
hell. 

Society  is  full  of  those  whose  hearts  have  thus  been 
scorched  and  blasted  in  the  vain  attempt  to  satisfy  a 
craving  soul  with  any  thing  but  God.  The  sense  of 
want  remains,  but  it  no  longer  stimulates  to  action; 


78 


SERMONS. 


it  is  like  tlie  thirst  of  those  who  hare  exhausted  nature 
in  the  efiort  to  find  water  in  the  desert,  and  have 
fallen  down  to  die.  The  thirst  which  they  before 
felt,  is  now  hut  one  among  a  multitude  of  symptoms 
which  premonish  speedy  death.  Perhaps  you  know 
such.  If  you  do  not,  you  at  least  know  those  whose 
minds  are  restless  under  disappointment,  and  a  sense 
of  insufficiency  in  every  thing  which  this  world  offers 
to  allay  their  inward  thirst.  If  you  know  such,  and 
would  act  the  part  of  Christians  towards  them,  do  not 
foster  their  delusive  hope  of  finding  yet  among  the 
untried  springs  and  cisterns  of  the  world,  what  they 
have  thus  far  sought  in  vain;  but  taking  your  stand 
by  the  fountain  of  life  which  Christ  has  opened,  cry 
to  them  in  a  voice  too  loud  and  piercing  to  he  heard 
without  attention,  ITo,  eyery  one  that  thirsteth, 
come  ye  to  the  waters !  ”  Here  bathe  those  burning 
brows  and ,  steep  those  parched  lips,  and  slake  that 
never-dying,  thirst  which  has  become  inseparable 
from  your  very  being. 

There  are  few  scenes  in  fiction  or  in  real  life 
better  suited  to  create  a  vivid  impression  of  re¬ 
freshment  and  relief,  than  those  descriptions  given 
by  some  travellers  in  the  great  Sahara,  of  the 
finding  of  a  well,  after  an  interval  of  terrible  privation. 
The  delirious  joy,  the  frantic  struggle  for  2:)recedence, 
the  impetuous  delight  with  which  the  panting  sufierer 
plunges  his  head  into  the  long-sought  element — the 
very  picture  brings  refreshment  with  it ;  but  alas  !  our 
sympathies  are  few  and  faint  with  spiritual  objects, 
or  we  certainly  should  find  what  I  have  just  described 
an  imperfect  emblem  of  the  new  life  breathed  into  the 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


79 


soul,  when  plunged  into  the  fountain  opened  for  sin 
and  uncleanness,  first,  to  he  cleansed,  and  then,  when 
all  impurity  has  passed  away,  to  drink.  Ah,  my 
hearers,  is  it  possible  for  those  who  have  once  tasted 
of  those  waters,  to  forget  them  ?  Will  a  man  leave 
the  snow  of  Lebanon,  or  shall  the  cold  flowing  waters 
be  forsaken  ?  Yes,  such  a  thing  is  possible  ;  for  if  it 
W'ere  not,  we  should  not  only  come  more  constantly 
ourselves  to  this  exhaustless  fountain,  but  should  cry 
more  frequently  to  all  them  that  pass  by,  “  Ho,  every 
one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters  !  ” 

It  is  related  by  one  who  had  experienced  the  hor¬ 
rors  of  the  great  African  desert,  that  the  thirst  which 
had  absorbed  all  other  feelings  while  it  raged,  was  no 
sooner  slaked,  than  the  feeling  of  hunger  was  revived 
in  tenfold  violence  ;  and  I  scruple  not  to  spiritualize 
this  incident  in  illustration  of  the  prophet’s  language. 
The  sensation  of  relief  from  undefined  anxiety  or  from 
a  positive  dread  of  divine  wrath,  however  exquisite, 
is  not  enough  to  satisfy  the  soul.  Tlie  more  it  re¬ 
ceives,  the  more  it  feels  its  own  deficiencies  :  and 
when  its  faculties  have  been  revived  by  the  assurance 
of  forgiveness,  it  becomes  aware  of  its  own  ignorance, 
and  of  those  chasms  which  can  only  be  filled  with 
knowledge  of  the  truth.  This  is  the  sense  of  spiritual 
hunger  which  succeeds  the  allaying  of  spiritual  thirst. 
The  soul,  having  been  refreshed,  must  now  be  fed. 
The  cooling,  cleansing  properties  of  water  cannot  re¬ 
pair  the  decaying  strength.  •  There  must  be  nutri¬ 
ment,  suited  to  the  condition  of  the  soul.  And  it  is 
furnished.  Here  is  milk  as  well  as  water.  We  are 
called,  not  only  to  refreshment  but  to  nourishment. 


80 


8ERMONS 


The  voice  cries,  not  only  “  Come  ye  to  the  waters,” 
hilt  “  Come  ye,  buy  and  eat.”  If  refreshment  only  be 
supplied,  the  soul,  though  freed  from  thirst,  will  die 
of  hunger.  Do  you  know  any  soul  in  this  state,  fresh 
from  the  layer  of  regeneration  and  rejoicing  in  its 
change  ?  Let  us  all  hope  to  know  many  such.  And 
wdien  we  do,  or  if  we  know  them  now,  let  us  see  to  it 
that  the  first  relief  obtained  from  the  waters  of  this 
fountain  be  succeeded  by  instruction — by  instruction 
suited  to  the  wants  of  babes  in  Christ — the  sincere 
milk  of  the  word.  It  may  never  be  knowm,  at  least 
to  us,  in  time  or  in  eternity,  how  much  of  the  fanati¬ 
cal  abuses  which  have  followed  what  appeared  to  be 
instances  of  genuine  conversion,  has  arisen  from  neg¬ 
lect,  or  error  in  this  very  juncture.  The  soul  has 
been  refreshed,  but  it  has  not  been  fed,  and  inanition 
has  excited  it  more  fatally  than  it  could  have  been 
excited  by  excess. 

Has  it  not  been  a  matter  of  familiar  observation 
that  the  same  men  who  are  most  successful  in  alarm¬ 
ing  sinners,  are  not  always  most  successful  in  the 
training  of  new  converts  or  the  edification  of  estab¬ 
lished  saints  ?  And  has  not  this  diversity  of  gifts  been 
made  a  reason  for  infringing  on  the  order  of  God’s 
house,  and  multiplying  orders  in  the  ministry  ?  They 
who  pursue  this  course  forget,  that  while  the  prophet 
invites  every  one  that  thirsteth  to  the  wmters,  he  in¬ 
vites  them  at  the  same  time  to  partake  of  milk  and 
wine — of  milk  to  nourish,  and  of  wine  to  cheer.  The 
supply  of  nature’s  cravings,  though  the  first  thing  in 
order  and  necessity,  is  not  the  last.  It  is  not  all.  The 
man  must  not  only  be  continued  in  existence — his  ex- 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


81 


istence  must  be  bappy ;  it  is  for  happiness  that  he 
desires  to  live,  and  when  that  which  is  necessary 
even  to  existence  is  supplied,  he  is  not  satisfied,  he 
must  have  more  ;  as  the  feeling  of  thirst  gives  way  to 
that  of  hunger,  so  the  sense  of  hunger  yields  to  the 
desire  of  enjoyment.  To  be  satisfied  with  mere  life, 
and  with  that  by  which  it  is  supported,  would  be 
brutal.  The  nobler  instincts  of  our  nature  point  to 
something  for  which  life  is  worth  possessing,  and  the 
very  satisfaction  of  inferior  necessities,  renders  those 
which  are  higher  more  perceptible  and  urgent.  As 
the  relief  of  doubt  and  dread  is  not  enough  without 
the  knowledge  of  the  truth,  so  the  knovfiedge  of  the 
truth  is  not  enough  unless  it  yields  enjoyment.  And 
it  does,  if  rightly  used.  The  gospel  offers  wine,  as 
well  as  milk,  and  water.  Come  and  drink,  not  of 
one,  but  of  all,  of  all  together.  Come  and  slake  your 
thirst,  appease  your  hunger,  and  dispel  your  cares ; 
not  by  different  means,  but  by  the  same  abundant, 
all-sufficient  grace.  God  makes  provision,  not  for  one 
want  merely,  but  for  all.  If  you  are  cooled,  and  not 
fed — if  you  are  fed,  and  not  exhilarated,  it  is  not  his 
fault,  but  yours ;  his  call  is  not  to  this  or  that  exclu¬ 
sively,  but  ^ffilo,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to 
I  the  waters,  and  he  tliat  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy 
I  and  eat.  Yea  come,  buy  wine  and  milk,  without  money 
j  and  without  price  !  ” 

I  have  already  directed  your  attention  to  the  fact, 
that  thirst  is  the  only  qualification  required  of  those 
who  are  invited  to  the  fountain,  bio  merit,  no  pur¬ 
chase  money ;  nay,  the  want  of  this  may  bo  consid¬ 
ered  as  a  negative  condition.  Merit  and  money  are 

VOL.  II. — 4* 


82 


SERMONS. 


not  only  needless,  they  are  excluded ;  for  you  see  the 
invitation  is  to  those  who  have  no  money,  who  can 
pay  no  price.  “  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come 
ye  to  the  waters,  and  he,  (or  even)  he  that  hath  no 
money.”  It  is  true  the  word  buy”  is  added — “  Come 
ye,  buy  and  eat” — but  the  Hebrew  word  is  not  the 
usual  ecpiivalent  to  ~biiy :  it  is  a  word  used  elsewhere 
to  denote  no  purchase  except  that  of  food ;  and 
even  in  that  application  may  mean  properly  the  mere 
act  of  yjroGuring^  by  whatever  means,  though  com¬ 
monly  applied  to  purchase,  in  the  strict  sense.  If  so, 
it  may  here  be  understood  to  mean  supply  your¬ 
selves.”  But  even  granting  that  the  word  means  hity 
— and  it  must  be  admitted  that  it  could  not  fail  to 
suggest  that  idea  to  a  Jewish  reader — it  appears  to 
me  that  it  is  evidently  used  here  for  the  very  purpose 
of  expressing  with  more  emphasis  the  perfect  freeness 
of  the  offer  made.  They  are  called  to  buy,  indeed, 
but  who  ?  who  are  to  be  the  buyers  ?  Why,  those 
who  have  no  money ;  and  lest  this  should  be  misun¬ 
derstood  as  implying  that  some  other  mode  of  pay¬ 
ment  would  be  called  for  beside  money,  all  miscon¬ 
struction  is  precluded  by  the  paradoxical,  but  most 
expressive  phrase — buy  wine  and  milk  without 
MONEY  AND  WITHOUT  PRICE.  Tliis  full  and  Unam¬ 
biguous  description  of  the  offer  as  gratuitous,  is  any 
thing  but  needless  or  suj^erfluous.  It  has  its  use,  a 
most  important  use,  in  guarding  men  against  a  natu¬ 
ral  and  common  error. 

The  offers  of  the  good  things  of  this  world  are  all 
made  on  a  contrary  condition  :  the  calls  of  this  world  are 
to  those  wdio  have  money,  those  who  can  render  some 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


83 


equivalent  for  that  which  they  receive.  So  universal  is 
this  rtile,  that  it  is  often  hard  for  men  to  he  convinced 
that  the  oifer  of  salvation  is  gratuitous.  They  feel 
that  something  must  be  rendered  in  return,  and  there¬ 
fore  they  conclude  that  the  forms  of  invitation,  which 
imply  gratuity  and  freeness,  are  to  be  understood  as 
excluding  merely  some  gross  forms  of  compensation, 
that  if  money  in  the  strict  sense  be  rejected,  as  it 
must  be,  it  is  only  to  make  way  for  some  equivalent ; 
and  thus  men,  in  the  face  of  God’s  most  solemn  dec¬ 
larations,  feed  the  pride  of  their  own  hearts  with  the 
delusive  hope  that  they  shall  yet  pay  down  the  price 
of  their  salvation.  In  others,  the  same  error  may 
assume  a  h ambler  form.  Knowing  the  principles  on 
which  men  are  accustomed  to  distribute  their  gifts, 
and  imperfectly  instructed  in  the  principles  of  God’s 
most  gracious  dispensations,  they  are  ready  to  infer 
that,  as  they  have  no  price  to  pay,  they  are  excluded 
from  the  offer.  It  is  just  as  if  the  poor,  exhausted 
pilgrim  in  the  desert,  seeing  others  crowd  around  the 
Avell  or  cistern,  should  imagine  that  the  water  must  be 
purchased,  and,  aware  of  his  own  poverty,  relinquish 
all  attempts  to  reach  it. 

But  suppose  that,  just  as  he  has  come  to  this  con¬ 
clusion,  a  voice  is  heard  proclaiming,  Ho,  every  one 
that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters  !  ”  and,  as  if  to 
preclude  all  possibility  of  doubt  as  to  the  freeness  of 
the  offer,  adding,  He  that  hath  no  money.”-  How 
I  would  such  a  person  be  affected  by  the  sound  ?  And 

i  how  ought  thirsting,  starving,  and  desponding  souls 

I  to  be  affected,  when  they  hear  the  want  of  merit  upon 
their  part  made  an  express  condition  of  the  offer  of 


84: 


SERMONS. 


salvation  ?  And  above  all,  bow  ought  those  who 
make  the  offer,  to  be  watchful  against  every  thing  at 
all  at  variance  with  this  first  principle  of  free  salva¬ 
tion,  Shall  the  ignorance,  or  negligence,  or  shallow 
experience  of  those  who  are  sent  forth  to  seek  and 
save  the  lost,  be  suffered  to  convert  the  free  and  gra¬ 
cious  invitations  of  the  Saviour  into  legal  bargains,  in 
which  grace  is  bought  and  sold  under  some  specious 
pretext  ?  This  is  no  trifling  or  unmeaning  question. 
There  is  a  spurious  liberality  of  feeling  and  opinion 
upon  this  point,  a  spirit  of  concession  to  the  legal 
doctrine  of  salvation  by  works,  as  if  there  were  really 
a  mere  verbal  difference  between  the  two.  And  this 
feeble,  compromising  temper,  may  gain  access  to  the 
pulpit  and  the  press,  without  any  formal  dereliction 
of  the  strictest  forms  of  orthodox  belief. 

The  half-instructed  youth  who  rushes  hastily  into 
the  field  of  labour,  under  a  strong  conviction  that  the 
world  is  ready  to  perish  for  the  want  of  his  individual 
services,  is  very  apt  to  carry  with  him  a  confused,  un¬ 
settled  view  of  this  essential  matter,  and,  by  way  of 
shunning  metaphysical  distinctions  and  scholastic  for¬ 
mulas,  to  clog  the  glorious  offer  of  a  free  salvation 
with  the  pitiful  conditions  of  a  mere  self-righteous¬ 
ness.  It  has  been  done.  It  may  be  done  again.  But 
who  will  dare  to  do  it  ?  "Who  v/ill  dare  with  his  eyes 
open  to  exclude  from  Christ  those  who  are  specially 
entitled  to  approach  him,  for  the  ver}/  reason  that 
their  guilt  is  great,  their  misery  extreme,  their  own 
strength  nothing,  and  their  merit  less  than  nothing  ? 
for  instead  of  meriting  reward,  they  merit  punish¬ 
ment.  'Will  you  exclude  them,  or  impede  them,  on 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


85 


the  gronnd  that  a  gratuitous  offer  will  encourage  sin  ? 
If  you  do  it  at  all,  this  will  no  doubt  be  your  motive. 
And  to  what  does  it  amount  ?  That  you  are  more 
afraid  of  sin,  and  more  unwilling  to  encourage  it,  than 
God  himself.  The  necessary  consequence  of  what 
you  do  is  to  condemn  your  Maker. 

“  Snatcli  from  his  hand  the  sceptre  and  the  rod, 

Ee-judge  his  justice,  be  the  God  of  God.” 

They  who  are  good  enough  or  had  enough  for 
Christ' to  save,  are  good  enough  for  you  to  seek  in 
order  to  salvation.  The  objection  is  a  merely  theo¬ 
retical  objection ;  it  is  utterly  at  war  with  all  expe¬ 
rience  ;  the  abusers  of  God’s  grace  have  never  been 
the  true  recipients  of  gratuitous  salvation.  Tliey  have 
been  the  cavillers  and  carpers  at  it.  They  have  often 
been  the  self-sufficient  formalist,  and  the  self-deceiv¬ 
ing  hypocrite.  There  is  no  danger  in  obeying  God, 
and  following  his  example.  And  as  he  has  made  the 
want  of  merit,  and  of  all  reliance  upon  merit  a  con¬ 
dition  of  acceptance  with  him,  let  us  go  and  do  like¬ 
wise.  Let  us  not  act  the  part  of  the  ungrateful  and 
uncharitable  servant,  wdio  no  sooner  had  obtained 
from  his  master  the  remission  of  his  own  debt,  than 
he  cruelly  exacted  the  inferior  obligation  of  his  fellow- 
servant.  In  the  parable,  indeed,  tlie  debt  exacted  was 
one  due  to  the  very  man  whose  own  debt  had  been 
just  remitted.  But  we  may  be  sure  that  if  he  had 
been  equally  severe  in  the  exaction  of  debts  owing  to 
his  lord,  although  his  guilt  would  have  been  less,  al¬ 
though  his  error  miglit  have  sprung  from  an  unen¬ 
lightened  zeal  for  the  rights  of  Him  by  wdiose  free 


86 


SERMONS. 


favour  lie  liad  been  liimself  forgiven,  he  would  not 
have  escaped  censure. 

ISTor  shall  we,  if  we  do  likewise.  ]^o,  my  brethren, 
it  is  not  the  will  of  Him,  who,  as  we  humbly  trust, 
has  pardoned  ns  so  freely,  that  in  publishing  the  gos¬ 
pel  of  his  grace,  we  should  lay  hold  of  our  wretched 
fellow-sinners  by  the  throat,  and  say.  Pay  my  master 
what  thou  owest.  It  is  not  the  will  of  Christ  that 
the  salvation  which  he  died  for,  which  he  bought  by 
death,  and  which  he  paid  for  with  his  heart’s  blood 
to  the  uttermost  farthing,  should  be  brought  into  the 
market  and  exposed  to  sale  by  us,  as  if  it  could  again 
be  purchased  by  the  groans  wrung  from  the  heart  of 
the  despairing  sinner,  who  instead  of  being  brought 
to  Christ  is  thus  put  from  him,  it  may  be  forever.  If 
any  perversion  of  the  truth  can  be  insulting  to  the 
Saviour,  it  is  this.  It  must  needs  be  that  offences 
come,  but  woe  to  that  man  by  whom  the  offence 
cometh.  The  way  in  which  that  woe  may  be  avoided 
is  too  plain  to  be  mistaken.  It  is  one  which  brings 
us  back  to  the  same  point  from  which  we  started ;  the 
necessity  of  following  God’s  own  example  in  the  offer 
of  salvation. 

If  we  do  this  we  are  safe.  Let  us  all  then  learn  to 
do  it.  Both  in  public  and  in  private,  as  we  have  oc¬ 
casion,  let  us  open  to  the  sinner’s  view  the  fountain 
of  life,  and  if  he  will  not  look,  or  if  he  be  so  fav  off" 
that  he  cannot  see  it,  while  he  dies  of  thirst  and 
hunger,  let  us  lift  up  our  voices,  and  with  piercing 
accents  bid  him  come  and  live ;  let  us  tell  him  that 
he  must  come  or  be  lost  forever  ;  but  beware  of  add¬ 
ing  any  other  limitation ;  let  ns  call  with  special 


ISAIAH  55,  1. 


8Y 


emphasis  to  those  who  are  most  destitute  of  all  meri¬ 
torious  pretensions  to  he  saved ;  to  the  ignorant,  the 
desperately  wicked,  to  the  heathen ;  and  as  they  pass 
by,  rushing  madly  to  destruction,  whether  near  us  or 
afar  off,  let  us  make  their  ears  to  tingle  with  the 
memorable  words  of  the  prophetic  preacher,  “Ho, 
every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  waters,  and 
he  that  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat :  yea 
come,  buy  wine  and  milk  without  money  and  with¬ 
out  price.’’ 


Isaiah  65,  2. — ^Wherefore  do  ye  spend  money  for  that  which  is  not 
bread  ?  and  your  labour  for  that  which  satisfieth  not  ?  Hearken  dil¬ 
igently  unto  me,  and  eat  ye  that  which  is  good,  and  let  your  soul 
delight  itself  in  fatness. 


Having-  set  forth,  in  the  first  verse,  the  perfect 
adaptation  of  the  grace  which  is  offered  in  the  gospel, 
to  the  wants  of  sinners,  as  a  source  of  refreshment, 
spiritual  strength,  and  divine  exhilaration  ;  and  hav¬ 
ing,  at  the  same  time,  exhibited  its  absolute  and  per¬ 
fect  freeness,  by  inviting  men  to  buy  it  without 
money  and  without  price,”  the  evangelical  prophet 
now  expostulates  with  those  who  are  unwilling  to  re¬ 
ceive  it,  and  exposes  the  absurdity  of  thus  refusing  to 
embrace  the  only  real  good,  while  at  the  same  time 
they  are  toiling  in  pursuit  of  that  which  is  imaginary. 
If  it  were  possible  for  men  to  forego  all  desire  of  hap¬ 
piness,  and  all  attempts  to  gain  it,  such  a  course 
would  be  demonstrably  unworthy  of  a  rational  and 
moral  agent,  whose  entire  constitution  shows  him  to 
have  been  created  for  the  future.  But  in  that  case, 
notwithstanding  the  stupendous  guilt  and  folly  of  his 
conduct,  he  would  have  wherewith  to  parry  the  at¬ 
tacks  of  conscience,  and  evade  the  invitations  of  the 


ISAIAH  65,  2. 


89 


gospel,  by  alleging  that  be  asked  for  nothing  more 
than  be  possessed,  that  bis  desires  were  satisfied,  and 
tbat  it  would  be  folly  to  disturb  bis  own  enjoyment 
and  exbanst  tbe  remnant  of  bis  days  in  seeking  tbat  of 
wbicb  be  felt  no  need,  and  tbe  attainment  of  wbicb 
could  not  possibly  afford  bim  any  satisfaction. 

It  is  easy  to  perceive  tbe  self-deluding  sophistry 
of  such  a  plea,  assuming,  as  it  does,  tbe  non-existence, 
nay  imj)ossibility  of  all  degrees  of  happiness  not  ac¬ 
tually  experienced ;  an  absurdity  so  palpable,  as  of 
itself  to  be  an  adequate  preventive  of  tbat  stagnant 
apathy  wbicb  it  defends.  But  the  necessity  of  any 
such  preventive  is  excluded  by  tbe  very  constitution 
of  our  nature,  wbicb  lias  made  it  impossible  for  sen¬ 
tient  creatures  to  be  wholly  regardless  of  their  own 
well-being.  Blinded  and  grievously  mistaken  they 
may  be  as  to  tbe  best  means  of  securing  it,  and  as  to 
tbe  comparative  amount  of  good  attainable  in  tbat 
course  wbicb  they  are  pursuing  and  in  others.  But 
they  must  pursue  some  course  as  tbe  way  to  happi¬ 
ness.  Tbe  living  creature  clings  to  life  until  be  finds 
it  insupportable,  and  even  then  be  chooses  death  not 
as  a  greater  but  a  lesser  evil.  It  is  not  against  a 
hatred  of  enjoyment,  therefore,  or  an  absolute  indiffer¬ 
ence  to  it,  that  tbe  grace  of  God  and  tbe  salvation  of 
tbe  gospel  must  contend ;  it  is  against  tbe  most  in¬ 
tense  desire  of  happiness  acting  in  tbe  wrong  direction, 
and  impelling  bim  who  feels  it  to  tbe  use  of  means, 
wbicb  must  ultimately  thwart  tbe  very  end  wbicb 
they  are  now  employed  to  bring  about. 

Tbe  expostulation  of  tbe  preacher  is  not,  Why,  ob 
why  are  you  not  hungry?  why  do  you  refuse  to 


90 


SERMONS. 


spend  your  money,  and  yonr  labour  in  obtaining 
food  ?  ’’  but  it  is,  “  Why  do  ye  spend  money  for  that 
which  is  not  bread,  and  yonr  labour  for  that  which 
satisheth  not  ?  ”  Observe,  too,  that  he  does  not  seek 
to  remedy  the  evils  which  arise  from  perverted  and 
unsatisfied  desire,  by  the  extinction  of  the  appetite 
itself ; — of  that  immortal,  inextinguishable  craving, 
which  can  only  cease  by  annihilation,  or  by  full 
fruition.  This,  indeed,  is  a  distinctive  mark  of  true 
religion,  as  opposed  to  other  systems.  Since  the  evils 
under  which  the  human  race  is  groaning  may  be 
clearly  traced  to  the  inordinate  indulgence  of  desires 
after  happiness,  under  the  infiuence  of  “  strong  delu¬ 
sions,”  as  to  that  which  can  afford  it,  we  are  not  to 
wonder  that  when  unassisted  reason  undertakes  to  do 
away  with  the  effect,  it  should  attempt  the  extirpa¬ 
tion  of  the  cause  ;  and  you  will  find  accordingly  that 
every  system  of  religion  or  philosophy,  distinct  from 
Christianity,  either  indulges,  under  some  disguise,  that 
perversion  of  man’s  natural  desire  after  happiness 
wliich  makes  him  wretched,  or  affects  to  cure  it  by 
destroying  the  desire  itself. 

Between  these  Epicurean  and  Stoical  extremes, 
all  systems  of  religion  but  the  true  one  have  been 
oscillating  since  the  world  began.  The  one  has  found 
favour  with  the  many,  the  other  with  the  few ;  the 
o-ne  has  prevailed  in  society  at  large,  the  other  has 
arisen  from  the  over-refinements  of  a  vain  philosophy. 
And  thus  these  two  antagonist  errors  have  existed 
and  produced  their  bitter  fruit  simultaneously,  and 
under  every  outward  form  of  practice  and  belief. 
While  the  one  has  shown  itself  hi  the  prevailing  self- 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


91 


indulgence  of  all  lieatlien  nations,  in  tlie  sensual  creed 
and  practice  of  tlie  Moslem,  in  tlie  Papist’s  compro¬ 
mise  between  liis  pleasures  on  tbe  one  band,  and  bis 
periodical  confessions  on  tbe  other,  and  in  a  similar 
but  more  concealed  mode  of  compensation  on  tbe 
part  of  those  who  bold  tbe  truth  in  unrighteousness  ; 
tbe  other  has  appeared  in  tbe  speculations  and  self- 
denial  of  tbe  old  philosophers,  tbe  austerities  and  self- 
inflicted  sufi’erings  of  heathen,  Mohammedan,  and 
Christian  self-tormentors.  And  with  what  effect  ? 
that  of  plunging  men  in  the  bottomless  abyss  of  self- 
indulgence  on  the  one  hand,  or  in  that  of  a  desperate 
unbelief  upon  the  other.  But  while  one  voice  cries 
to  the  bewildered  sinner,  Cease  to  hunger,  cease  to 
thirst,”  and  another  from  an  opposite  direction  bids 
him  “  Eat  and  drink,  for  to-morrow  we  die,”  the  voice 
of  God  and  of  the  gospel  is,  “  Yv^herefore  do  ye  spend 
your  money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  your 
labour  for  that  which  satisfleth  not  ?  ” 

The  question  presupposes  that  the  soul  is  hungry, 
that  it  must  be  hungry  until  it  is  fed,  that  the  gnaw¬ 
ings  of  this  hunger  will  constrain  it  to  seek  food,  and 
that  the  instinct  of  self-preservation,  no  less  than  the 
desire  of  enjoyment,  will  induce  it  to  give  any  thing 
it  has  in  exchange  for  the  necessary  means  of  its  sub¬ 
sistence  and  enjoyment ;  that  the  fatal  error  lies  not 
in  the  seeking  after  something  to.  sustain  it  and  to 
make  it  happy,  but  in  imagining  that  this  end  can  be 
answered  by  the  pleasures,  gains,  and  honours  of  the 
world,  which  are  not  only  brief  in  their  duration,  but 
unsuited  in  their  nature,  even  while  they  last,  to  sat¬ 
isfy  the  wants  of  an  immortal  spirit.  It  is  this  view 


92 


SERMONS. 


of  man’s  natural  condition  upon  wliicli  tlie  invitations 
of  tlie  gospel  are  all  founded ;  and  tlie  absolute  coin¬ 
cidence  of  tins  view  with  the  lessons  of  experience  is 
among  the  strongest  proofs,  not  only  that  Christianity 
is  better  suited  to  the  actual  necessities  of  man  than 
any  other  system  of  belief,  but  also  that  it  is  a  plan 
devised  by  one  who  had  an  intimate  and  perfect 
knowledge  of  our  nature ;  while  the  most  ingenious 
speculations  of  philosophy,  even  when  aided  by  a 
’  partial  reception  and  appropriation  of  the  doctrines 
of  the  Bible,  at  every  step  have  betrayed  the  grossest 
ignorance  of  man’s  original  and  actual  condition,  and 
of  the  only  way  in  which  his  restoration  can  be  pos¬ 
sibly  effected. 

The  Christian,  in  endeavouring  to  win  men  to  the 
Saviour,  may  proceed  in  full  assurance,  that  the  plan 
which  he  develop es  and  the  offers  which  he  makes, 
are  in  perfect  accordance  with  the  natural  capacities 
and  wants  of  those  for  whose  salvation  he  is  labouring, 
and  under  this  encouraging  conviction  he  may  cry 
aloud  and  spare  not,  to  the  starving  souls  around  him, 
“  Hearken  diligently  unto  me,  and  eat  ye  that  which 
is  good.” 

For  let  it  be  observed,  that  while  the  prophet 
shows  the  insufficiency  of  temporal  enjoyments  or  ad¬ 
vantages  as  means  of  happiness,  he  is  far  from  leaving 
us  to  be  content  with  this  as  a  mere  theoretical  ojun- 
ion,  which  can  lead  to  nothing  but  a  painful  con¬ 
sciousness  of  want  unsatisfied,  and  to  that  sickness  of 
the  heart  produced  by  “  hope  deferred.”  But  on  the 
contrary,  he  makes  the  utter  insufficiency  of  earthly 
good  an  argument,  a  reason,  not  for  ceasing  to  desire, 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


03 


wliieli  is  impossible,  and  if  it  were  not,  would  be 
wrong  and  foolish,  bnt  for  fixing  the  desires  npon 
other  objects,  good  in  themselves,  and  adapted  to  onr 
nature.  He  assures  the  disappointed  sonl  that  happi¬ 
ness  is  really  attainable;  and  while  the  last  achieve¬ 
ment  of  philosophy  (falsely  so  called)  is  to  make  man 
acquiesce  with  a  sullen  apathy  in  the  frustration  of 
his  dearest  hopes,  the  gospel  soars  immeasnreably 
higher,  and  assures  him  that  his  hopes  shall  not  be 
frustrated;  that  there  is  a  good  as  perfect,  nay  im- 
measureably  more  so  than  his  fondest  wishes  ever 
yet  conceived  ;  a  good,  substantial  and  enduring,  aye 
and  satisfying  too,  at  which  he  may,  at  which  he 
ought  to  aim,  and  aiming  at  which  he  shall  not  be 
disappointed,  because  God  invites  him  to  desire  it  and 
to  seek  it,  holding  it  out  as  an  equivalent,  a  snbstb 
tnte,  for  that  ideal  and  fallacious  good,  in  quest  of 
which  he  is  exliausting  nature  and  despising  grace. 
To  such,  to  all  such  let  the  voice  of  invitation  come  in 
tender  and  persuasive  tones.  Let  all  who  are  em¬ 
ployed  in  the  laborious,  bnt  vain  attempt,  to  feed 
a  spiritual  nature  with  material  good,  hear  God’s 
j  voice  like  the  voice  of  a  compassionate  father  to  his 
erring  children  saying,  lYherefore  do  ye  spend  your 
money  for  that  which  is  not  bread,  and  your  labour 
for  tliat  which  satisfietli  not?  Hearken  diligently 
unto  me,  and'  eat  ye  that  which  is  good,  and  let  your 
sonl  delight  itself  in  fatness.” 

Bnt  is  this  all  ?  Is  this  indefinite  assurance  that 
there  is  a  good  sufficient  and  attainable,  the  highest 
and  liest  offer  that  the  gospel  makes  to  sinners  ? 
Must  the  sonl,  disappointed  in  its  quest  of  earthly 


94 


SERMONS. 


good,  be  left  to  gaze  at  random  on  tlie  infinite  variety 
of  possible  contingencies  by  wliicb  tbe  cravings  of  its 
nature  may  be  satisfied  ?  Alas  !  if  tbis  were  all,  tlie 
tender  mercies  of  tlie  gospel  would  be  cruel.  If  tlie 
sinner  is  to  be  convinced  of  tbe  unsatisfying  nature  of 
tbe  objects  be  is  actually  seeking,  only  in  order  to  be 
tangbt  tbat  there  is  somewhere  in  the  universe  an  ob¬ 
ject  truly  worthy  of  bis  choice  and  suited  to  bis  na¬ 
ture,  blit  without  direction  where  or  bow  be  is  to  seek 
it ;  bow  can  tbis  tantalizing  process  be  regarded  as 
a  favourable  change,  or  one  promotive  of  bis  happi¬ 
ness  ?  If  be  is  never  to  know  more  than  tbis,  tbat 
there  is  only  one  way  of  becoming  blessed,  and  tbat 
be  has  missed  it,  it  were  better  for  him  to  remain  in 
bis  delusion.  But,  my  friends,  if  Christianity  has  ever 
left  men  in  tbis  state  of  mere  negation,  it  is  not  be¬ 
cause  its  Author  or  tbe  word,  of  God  has  thus  revealed 
it,  but  because  tbe  heralds  who  were  sent  forth  to 
proclaim  it  were  mistaken  in  their  own  views,  or  un¬ 
faithful  to  their  trust. 

But  tbe  voice  of  God  himself  has  no  such  “  uncer¬ 
tain  sound.”  He  does  not  proclaim  merely  tbat  there 
is  salvation  somewhere,  and  exhort  mankind  to  seek 
it ;  but  be  leads  them  to  it :  be  stands  at  tbe  fountain 
of  life  and  cries,  Ho,  every  one  tbat  tbirstetb,  come 
ye  to  tbe  waters,—”  to  these  waters.  “  Look  unto  me 
and  be  saved,  all  ye  ends  of  the  earth.”'  ^Hncline 
your  ear  and  come  unto  me  :  bear,  and  your  soul  shall 
live.”  He  does  not  merely  tell  tbe  wanderer  in  tbe 
desert  tbat  be  has  lost  bis  way ;  be  does  not  merely 
show  him  bow  be  may  regain  it ;  but  be  stands,  and 
calls  him  to  come  hither ;  Come  to  me  \  turn  away 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


95 


your  eyes  from  every  other  object,  and  especially  from 
those  which  have  hitherto  misled  you ;  listen  no 
longer  to  the  voices  which  have  tempted  you  astray, 
and  which  are  still  loudly  ringing  in  your  ears.  Re¬ 
gard  them  not,  for  they  would  lead  you  downwards 
to  despair  and  death.  I  am  the  way,  and  the  truth, 
and  the  life.”  Incline  your  ear  and  come  unto  me : 
hear,  and  your  soul  shall  live.” 

This  direction  of  the  soul  to  a  specific  and  exclu¬ 
sive  object  as  its  only  ground  of  hope  and  trust,  with¬ 
out  allowing  any  interval  of  doubt,  or  any  liberty  of 
choice,  is  a  distinctive  feature  in  the  gospel  system, 
and  should  never  be  forgotten  in  the  dispensation  of 
the  grace  of  God  by  his  ambassadors.  The  soul,  when 
really  convinced  of  its  own  error  in  resorting  to  the 
world  and  to  itself  for  happiness,  if  siififered  to  remain 
without  a  fixed  point  of  attraction  and  dependence, 
will  infallibly  revert  to  its  abandoned  idols,  or  to  some 
new  form  of  self-delusion,  more  incurable  and  fatal 
than  the  old,  because  adopted  under  the  excitement  of 
a  groundless  hope,  and  amidst  the  raptures  of  a  spu¬ 
rious  joy.  The  only  safeguard  against  such  delusions 
is  a  full  exhibition  of  the  one  way  of  salvation,  and 
in  this  as  in  other  points  already  mentioned,  we  have 
only  to  follow  a  divine  example.  For  the  prophet, 
speaking  in  the  name  of  God,  after  calling  men  to 
come  to  him,  to  hear  him  that  their  souls  may  live, 
annexes  to  this  gracious  invitation  the  specific  prom¬ 
ise  of  a  sure  salvation  ;  a  salvation  not  contingent  or 
fortuitous,  but  one  provided  by  a  gracious  constitu¬ 
tion  on  the  part  of  God  himself ;  a  salvation  promised 
and  confirmed  by  oath  ;  a  covenant  of  mercy,  eternal 


96 


SERMONS. 


in  its  origin,  and  everlasting  in  its  stipnlations,  com- 
preliending  in  its  wonderful  provisions  tlie  essential 
requisite  of  an  atonement,  a  priest  and  sacrifice,  an 
all-sutficient  Saviour ;  not  a  Saviour  whose  perform¬ 
ance  of  hi  a  office  should  he  partial,  or  contingent,  or 
uncertain  from  the  change  of  person,  hut  the  One, 
the  only  Saviour,  “  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 
forever;”  a  priest  forever  after  the  order  of  Melchise- 
dec,  the  Son  of  God,  the  Son  of  man,  the  Son  of 
David,  who  should  sit  upon  his  royal  father’s  throne 
for  ever,  who  was  promised  to  the  dying  king  himself, 
and  of  whom  that  expiring  saint  exclaimed,  This  is 
all  my  salvation  and  all  my  desire  !  ”  It  is  to  this 
exclusive  object  that  the  sinner’s  faith  and  hope  are 
turned  when  God  says  hy  the  prophet:  ^ffincline 
your  ear  and  come  unto  me  :  hear  and  your  soul  shall 
live :  and  I  will  make  an  everlasting  covenant  with 
you,  even  the  sure  mercies  of  David.” 

Some  suppose  that  Christ  is  here  expressly  men¬ 
tioned  hy  the  name  of  David,  an  interpretation  not 
hy  any  means  so  arbitrary  as  it  may  appear  to  those 
who  have  not  made  themselves  acquainted  with  the 
remarkable  variety  of  names  hy  which  the  prophets 
designate  the  Saviour.  In  the  words  before  us,  how¬ 
ever  they  may  he  explained,  there  is  an  evident  allu¬ 
sion  to  the  promise  made  to  David  and  recorded  in 
the  first  hook  of  Samuel,  (7,  16,)  Thine  house  and 
thy  kingdom  shall  he  established  forever  before  thee, 
thy  throne  shall  he  established  forever,”  viz.,  hy  the 
succession  of  Messiah,  of  whom  it  was  said,  before  liis 
birth,  hy  a  messenger  from  heaven  :  “  He  shall  he 
great,  and  shall  he  called  the  Son  of  the  Highest,  and 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


97 


the  Lord  shall  give  unto  him  the  throne  of  his  father 
David,  and  he  shall  reign  over  the  house  of  Jacob 
forever,  and  of  his  kingdom  there  shall  he  no  end.’^ 
(Luke  1,  32.  33.) 

It  was  in  the  prospect  of  this  glorious  succession, 
hy  which  David  was  to  live  again  and  reign  again 
forever,  that  the  ancient  prophets  uttered  some  of 
their  most  cheering  and  sublime  predictions :  (Jer. 
23,  5.  6.)  “  Behold  the  days  come,  saith  the  Lord, 
that  I  will  raise  unto  David  a  righteous  branch,  and 
a  king  shall  reign  and  prosper,  and  shall  execute 
judgment  and  justice  in  the  earth.  In  his  days  Judah 
shall  be  saved,  and  Israel  shall  dwell  safely,  and  this 
is  the  name  whereby  he  shall  be  called,  Jehovah  our 
Righteousness.”  In  these  words  of  J eremiah,  Christ 
is  represented  as  a  branch  which  should  be  raised  up 
unto  David  ;  in  those  of  Ezekiel  wRich  follow,  he  ap¬ 
pears  in  the  character  of  David  himself :  (Ezek.  34, 
22.  23.  24.)  I  will  save  my  flock,  and  they  shall  no 
more  be  a  prey,  and  I  will  judge  between  cattle  and 
cattle ;  and  I  will  set  up  one  Shepherd  over  them, 
and  he  shall  feed  them,  even  my  servant  David ;  he 
shall  feed  them,  and  he  shall  be  their  Shepherd,  and 
I  the  Lord  will  be  their  God,  and  my  servant  David 
a  prince  among  them :  I  the  Lord  have  spoken  it.” 
And  again:  (Ezek.  37,  24.  25.)  “So  shall  they  be 
my  people,  and  I  will  be  their  God,  and  David  my 
servant  shall  be  king  over  them,  and  they  all  shall 
have  one  shepherd  :  they  shall  also  walk  in  my  judg¬ 
ments,  and  observe  my  statutes,  and  do  them.  And 
they  shall  dwell  in  the  land  that  I  have  given  unto 
Jacob  my  servant,  wherein  your  fathers  have  dwelt; 

VOL.  II. — 5 


98 


SERMONS. 


they  shall  dwell  therein,  even  they,  and  their  children, 
and  their  children’s  children  forever,  and  my  servant 
David  shall  he  their  prince  forever.”  These  are  clear 
cases  of  the  application  of  the  name  to  Christ,  and 
will  perhaps  suffice  to  justify  a  like  interpretation  in 
the  case  before  iis,  even  in  the  absence  of  all  parallel 
expressions  in  the  writings  of  Isaiah. 

There  is,  however,  no  necessity  for  any  such  inter¬ 
pretation,  as  the  words  here  used,  unlike  those  of 
Ezekiel,  may  be  referred  either  to  the  future  or  the 
past;  and  because,  if  taken  in  their  obvious  meaning, 
as  referring  to  the  literal  king  David,  they  afford  a 
sense  good  in  itself  and  perfectly  coherent  with  the  con¬ 
text.  There  is  less  reason  for  departing  from  the  ob¬ 
vious  and  common-sense  meaning,  because,  in  either 
case,  the  reference  to  Christ  is  clear,  though  more  ex 
plicit  in  the  one  case  than  the  other.  On  the  one  sup¬ 
position,  he  is  spoken  of  as  David  ;  on  the  other,  as  the 
great  blessing  promised  to  David.  In  the  one  case, 
the  promise  is  :  “  Come  unto  me,  and  I  will  make  you 
partakers  of  the  blessings  promised  in  and  through 
the  second  David,  the  Messiah  ;  ”  in  the  other  case  it 
is,  Come,  and  I  will  make  an  everlasting  covenant 
with  you,  securing  to  you  the  sure  mercies^  the  bless¬ 
ings  faithfully  and  irrevocably  promised  to  the  ancient 
David,  all  which  blessings  meet  and  terminate  in 
Christ.”  Li  either  case,  therefore,  the  promise  is 
specific,  and  the  offer  made  is  not  an  oiler  of  salvation 
in  the  general  or  the  abstract,  but  of  free  salvation 
through  the  blood  of  Christ. 

Upon  these  two  points  in  the  offer  of  salvation, 
let  us  look  with  fixed  attention.  It  is  specific.  It  is 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


99 


sure.  It  is  not  mercy  in  general  tliat  is  offered,  but 
the  mercies  of  David,  the  mercies  purchased  by  the 
second  David,  the  mercies  promised  to  the  ancient 
David,  which  he  hoped  for,  which  he  trusted  in,  and 
of  which  he  could  say :  “  this  is  all  my  salvation,  and 
all  my  desire.”  It  is  this  peculiar,  special  exhibition 
of  God’s  mercy  to  lost  sinners  that  is  here  held  forth 
to  them ;  it  is  this  that  he  offers  to  make  theirs  by 
the  provisions  of  an  everlasting  covenant,  even  the 
sure  mercies  of  David  ;  for  the  blessing  offered  is  not 
only  definite  but  sure.  It  is  a  covenanted  blessing, 
and  it  therefore  cannot  fail ;  it  is  a  permanent  bless¬ 
ing,  and  can  undergo  no  change ;  it  is  a  durable 
blessing,  and  shall  last  forever. 

These  two  attributes  or  qualities  of  Christ’s  salva¬ 
tion,  though  to  some  they  may  appear  of  little  moment, 
seem  not  so  to  the  convinced,  alarmed,  and  half-de- 
sj^airing  soul,  when  after  trying  every  source  of  nat¬ 
ural  enjoyment,  but  without  obtaining  rest  or  satis¬ 
faction,  while  the  vast  variety  of  objects  sought  and 
tried,  serves  only  to  distract  and  weary  it.  Hope 
faints  and  the  heart  sickens,  till  at  last,  through  sov¬ 
ereign  mercy,  the  inviting  voice  of  Christ  and  of  his 
servants  gains  access  to  the  reluctant  ear,  and  with  the 
ear  the  eye  is  turned  to  that  quarter  whence  the  voice 
proceeds,  and  there,  no  longer  roving  among  many 
objects,  fixes  finally  on  one,  and  there  abides  forever. 

But  to  this  concentration  of  the  sinner’s  hopes, 
there  must  be  added  an  assurance  of  security  and 
constancy  in  that  which  he  relies  upon,  or  he  can 
never  rest.  And  this  the  gospel  offers  when  it  calls 
liim  to  partake  of  “  the  sure  mercies  of  David.”  It 


100 


SERMONS. 


is  the  glory  of  this  great  salvation  that  it  is  thus 
sure  ;  ”  sure,  from  the  very  nature  of  the  change 
which  it  produces  in  the  relation  of  the  sonl  to  Christ, 
and  sure  from  the  irrevocable  oath  and  promise  of  a  cov¬ 
enant-keeping  God.  When  the  soul  is  awakened  to  a 
sense  of  its  condition,  the  first  great  object  of  its  wonder 
is  the  depth  and  aggravation  of  its  guilt,  which  seem 
to  render  its  escape  from  wrath  an  impossibility.  Soon 
its  wonder  is  excited  by  another  and  a  nobler  object, 
by  the  revelation  of  the  truth  that  God  can  be  just 
and  yet  a  justifier  of  the  ungodly.  !Nor  is  this  its  last 
discovery,  for  after  vainly  struggling  to  acquire  some 
legal  right  to  the  salvation  which  is  thus  seen  to  be 
possible,  the  soul  is  filled  with  new  amazement  as  it 
forms  at  last  a  just  conception  of  the  glorious  truth 
that  this  salvation  is  as  free  as  it  is  full  and  effica¬ 
cious,  that  none  can  taste  of  it  at  all  but  those  who 
are  content  to  purchase  it  on  God’s  own  terms, 
“  without  money  and  without  price.” 

But  even  after  this  conception  has  been  formed, 
and  has  become  familiar,  weakness  of  faith  and  a  re¬ 
maining  leaven  of  self-righteousness  will  often  lead  to 
scej)tical  misgivings,  and  suspicions  that,  although 
the  gospel  method  of  salvation  be  a  perfect  one,  and 
perfectly  gratuitous,  it  may,  like  other  favours  be 
withdrawn,  and  he  who  rested  in  it,  perish  after  all. 
But  when  it  pleases  God  to  throw  the  rays  of  his  il¬ 
luminating  grace  upon  the  soul  and  to  dispel  the 
clouds  of  ignorance  and  error  which  involve  it,  one 
of  the  first  objects  -which  stands  forth  to  view  in  that 
self-evidencing  light,  is  the  unalterable  steadfastness 
and  absolute  security  of  that  salvation  which  is  offered 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


101 


in  tlie  gospel.  It  is  tliere  seen,  too  clearly  to  admit 
of  doubt,  tliat  the  believer’s  hope  is  founded,  not  at 
all  upon  himself,  but  altogether  on  another,  and  the 
merit  of  that  other  always  the  same  and  always  in¬ 
finite.  This  “  great  salvation  ”  is  as  sure  as  it  is  free, 
sure  as  the  merit  of  the  Saviour  and  the  covenant  of 
God  can  make  it,  and  may  therefore  well  be  called, 
as  the  prophet  calls  it  in  the  text,  “  the  sure  mercies 
of  David.” 

And  is  it  not  an  interesting  thought  that  the  same 
sure  mercies  upon  which  the  dying  king  so  confi¬ 
dently  rested,  and  in  praise  of  which  “  the  sweet 
psalmist  of  Israel  ”  aroused  the  farewell  echoes  of  his 
harp,  that  these  same  mercies  are  the  song  and  re¬ 
joicing  of  the  humblest  convert  in  the  darkest  sjDots 
of  Africa  and  Asia  and  the  islands  of  the  sea,  and  that 
on  this  same  foundation  are  erected  all  the  hopes  of 
those  who  name  the  name  of  Christ  in  these  ends  of 
the  earth  ? 

I  Was  this  extension  of  the  truth  foreseen  by  David 

!  and  Isaiah  ?  or  did  they  imagine,  with  their  carnal 
and  narrow-minded  countrymen,  that  “  Israel  accord¬ 
ing  to  the  fiesh  ”  should  continue  to  monopolize  the 
])romises  of  God  forever?  There  are  some  parts  of 
Scripture  where  the  promises  of  God  are  so  exclu¬ 
sively  connected  with  the  name  und  local  circum¬ 
stances  of  his  ancient  people,  as  to  furnish  some 
apology,  at  least,  for  the  pretensions  of  the  modern 
Jews,  and  at  the  same  time  to  divide  interj^reters, 
who  harmonize  in  other  matters,  as  to  the  question 
wlictlier  these  predictions  are  to  be  literally  verified 
hereafter,  or  have  already  been  accomplished  in  a 


102 


SERMONS. 


figurative,  spiritual  manner.  In  all  sucli  cases  it 
may  be  dis^^uted  wlietber  the  promise,  in  its  original 
and  proper  sense,  extended  further  than  the  Jewish 
Church  ;  but  in  the  case  before  us,  the  ungrateful  ne¬ 
cessity  of  such  restriction  is  precluded  by  the  lan¬ 
guage  of  the  prophecy  itself ;  for  the  attention  of  the 
thirsting,  starving  sinner  has  no  sooner  been  directed 
to  the  Saviour  as  the  Son  and  yet  the  Lord  of  David, 
than  the  prophet,  speaking  in  the  name  of  God,  as  if 
to  encourage  even  us  who  are  “  sinners  of  the  Gen¬ 
tiles  ”  to  confide  in  the  same  all-sufiicient  Saviour, 
says,  “  Behold  I  have  given  him  for  a  witness  to  the 
people,  a  leader  and  commander  to  the  people. 

The  connection  leaves  no  doubt  that  Christ  is  here 
the  subject  of  discourse.  He  was  a  witness  of  the 
truth,  but  an  authoritative  one,  because  he  spoke 
what  he  did  know :  he  spake  on  his  own  authority, 
not  that  of  others  ;  hence  he  was,  at  the  same  time,  a 
leader  and  commander  of  the  people.  To  the  mere 
English  reader,  this  important  verse  is  shorn  of  half 
its  meaning  and  of  all  its  emphasis  by  the  unhappy 
use  of  the  word  “  people,”  which  in  English  has  no 
plural,  to  translate  a  Hebrew  word  not  only  plural  in 
its  form,  but  most  emphatically  plural  in  its  sense. 
It  may  be  given  as  a  general  suggestion  to  the  read¬ 
ers  of  the  prophecies  in  English,  that  in  multitudes  of 
cases,  where  the  very  thing  predicted  is  the  calling  of 
tlie  Gentiles,  it  is  utterly  obscured  in  the  translation 
by  this  idiomatical  defect  of  form  in  the  equivalent 
selected  for  the  word  denoting  “  nations,”  a  defect 
which  cannot  possibly  have  failed  to  render  that  illus¬ 
trious  event  less  conspicuous  and  striking  to  the  mind 


ISAIAH  65,  2. 


103 


of  the  unlearned  English  Cliristian  than  to  the  readers 

O 

of  some  other  versions.  In  the  case  before  ns,  the 
divine  declaration  is  not  merely  or  at  all,  that  God 
had  set  Christ  forth  as  a  witness  and  commander  to 
the  Jews,  but  on  the  contrary  that  he  had  made  him, 
by  express  appointment,  a  witness  and  a  leader  to  the 
other  nations,  by  whose  convincing  testimony  and 
almighty  power,  God’s  elect  were  to  be  gathered  out 
of  every  kindred,  tribe,  and  people  under  heaven. 
Christ  is  a  witness  of  the  truth,  a  prophet,  a  divinely 
constituted  teacher,  not  to  this  or  that  community  or 
race  of  men,  not  even  to  God’s  chosen  and  peculiar 
people,  but  to  nations,  to  all  nations  ;  and  his  office 
as  a  Prince  of  Peace  and  Captain  of  Salvation  is  no 
less  extensive.  To  the  nations  generally  he  reveals 
the  Father,  and  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light. 
This  wide  extent  of  his  official  influence  is  further¬ 
more  expressed  in  what  immediately  follows,  where 
the  Father  speaks  of  him  no  more  in  the  third 
person,  but  addresses  him  directly,  and  assures  him 
that  his  saving  power  should  extend  to  nations  which 
he  knew  not  in  his  human  personality,  to  nations 
which  were  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel, 
and  strangers  to  the  old  restricted  covenants  of  prom¬ 
ise.  To  the  carnal  Jews,  this  doctrine  was  a  stumb¬ 
ling-block  and  foolishness,  because  they  reckoned  as 
political  and  natural  advantages  those  means  which 
God  had  used  to  prepare  the  way  for  Christ’s  appear¬ 
ance  and  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles.  Hence  they 
clung  with  impious  folly  to  the  means,  when  the  end 
had  been  accomplished,  and  imagined  in  their  blind¬ 
ness,  that  the  system  which  they  worshipped  had 


104 


SERMONS. 


been  framed  for  their  sake,  when  tbe  word  of  God  on 
eveiy  page,  assured  them  that  its  object  was  to  glorify 
Jehovah;  and  that  when  this  great  end  conld  be  an¬ 
swered  more  effectually  by  the  abrogation  of  the 
ancient  system  it  should  cease  forever.  And  in  view 
of  that  cessation,  and  of  Him  who  should  accomplish 
it  by  breaking  down  the  middle  wall  of  partition 
which  divided  Jews  from  Gentiles,  it  is  here  said  of 
him,  or  directly  to  him,  (v.  5,)  “  Behold,  thou  shalt  call  a 
nation  which  thou  knowest  not,  and  nations  that  knew 
not  thee  shall  run  unto  thee,  because  of  the  Lord  thy 
God,  and  for  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,  for  he  hath  glo¬ 
rified  thee.”  As  Messiah  was  to  glorify  the  Bather 
by  revealing  him  not  only  to  the  Jews,  but  to  the 
other  nations  which  had  never  known  him,  so  the 
Bather  was  to  glorify  the  Son  by  making  him  a  wit¬ 
ness  and  commander  of  the  nations,  and  by  granting 
him  a  glorious  accession  from  the  Gentile  world;  by 
giving  him  the  heathen  for  his  inheritance,  the  utter¬ 
most  j)arts  of  the  earth  for  his  possession;  by  inviting 
all  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  look  unto  him  for  salva¬ 
tion,  and  thus  making  good  to  all  who  hear  the  call, 
the  stipulations  of  that  everlasting  covenant  which 
seals  to  all  believers,  without  national  distinction  or 
respect  of  jDersons,  the  sure  mercies  of  David.” 

If,  in  addition  to  the  doctrinal  instructions  of  this 
interesting  passage,  we  would  learn  from  it  a  lesson 
in  the  art  of  invitation,  let  it  be  observed  (1)  that  we 
must  not  address  our  invitations  to  a  nature  of  which 
man  is  not  possessed,  but  to  his  actual  capacities  and 
wants,  admitting  or  assuming  their  reality  and 
strength,  and  striving  to  convince  him  that  they 


ISAIAH  55,  2. 


105 


never  can  be  satisfied  by  any  thing  but  that  which 
is  so  freely  offered  in  the  gospel.  (2)  In  the  next 
place,  let  ns  see  to  it,  that  this  great  offer  of  the  gos¬ 
pel  be  distinctly  and  specifically  held  np  to  the  sin¬ 
ner’s  view,  instead  of  suffering  his  mind  to  rest  in  a 
mere  negative  conviction  that  the  world  is  not  a 
satisfying  portion,  or.  allowed  to  roam  at  large  in 
search  of  untried  sources  of  enjoyment,  which  can 
never  prove  more  lasting  or  abundant  than  those 
which  have  already  been  resorted  to  in  vain.  (3) 
Let  no  man  be  invited  to  a  general  indefinite  reliance 
upon  mercy  as  an  attribute  of  God  without  regard  to 
that  particular  and  only  way  in  which  it  can  and  will 
be  exercised  to  fallen  man ;  but  let  him  be  invited  to 
a  sliare  in  the  provisions  of  that  everlasting  covenant 
which  God  has  promised  to  bestow  upon  him.*^' 

*  A  few  pages  of  the  conclusion  wanting. 


VOL.  II. - 5* 


VI. 


Isaiah  65,  6. — Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near. 


In  tlie  preceding  context  tliese  truths  are  taught : 
that  there  is  an  abundant  supply  for  the  spiritual 
wants  of  men ;  that  this  supply  is  suited  to  their 
various  necessities ;  that  it  includes  refreshment, 
strength,  exhilaration ;  that  the  constitution  of  man’s 
nature  forces  him  to  seek  some  satisfaction  ;  that  the 
multitude  are  actually  seeking  that  which  is  not 
bread,”  and  cannot  satisfy  the  soul ;  that  instead  of 
this,  the  gospel  offers  them  that  which  is  good,”  and 
invites  the  soul  to  delight  in  fatness ;  ”  that  this  offer 
is  a  free  one  ;  that  the  blessings  offered  may  he  bought, 
and  must  he  bought,  without  money  and  without 
price  ;  ”  that  they  can  only  be  obtained  by  hearken¬ 
ing  to  God,  and  coming  unto  him ;  that  there  is  only 
one  way  of  access  to  him ;  that  this  one  way  is  opened 
by  a  covenant ;  that  this  covenant  is  an  everlasting 
covenant,  ordered  in  all  things  atid  sure,”  (2  Sam.  23, 
5 ;)  that  the  Mediator  of  this  covenant  is  the  Son  of 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


107 


David,  the  second  David,  the  Messiah,  in  whom  are 
fulfilled  the  promises  made  to  the  Son  of  Jesse,  so 
that  the  mercies,  which  are  secured  to  men  through 
him,  may  w^ell  be  called  the  sure  mercies  of  David ;  ” 
that  these  mercies  are  not  offered  to  the  Jews  alone ; 
that  Christ  is  the  Saviour  of  the  Gentiles  also  ;  that 
his  office  is  that  of  “  a  witness  to  the  nations,  a  leader 
and  commander  of  the  nations;”  that  however  un¬ 
likely  the  extension  of  the  gospel  to  the  nations  might 
appear,  it  must  take  place ;  that  Christ  -will  call  nations 
wdiich  he  knew  not,  and  that  nations  which  he  knew 
not  will  run  unto  him ;  that  this  event  must  happen 
as  an  appointed  means  of  glorifying  God  and  doing 
honour  to  the  Saviour, 

All  this  was  addressed,  in  the  first  instance,  to 
the  Jews  ;  and  now  the  prophet  seems  to  press  upon 
them  the  practical  question — What  then  ought  you 
to  do  ?  If  God  designs  thus  to  save  the  heathen  who 
have  never  known  him,  what  effect  should  a  knowl¬ 
edge  of  that  purpose  have  on  you,  to  whom  he  is  well 
known?  Shall  the  Gentiles  enter  the  kingdom  of 
heaven  before  you  f  Shall  publicans  and  harlots  press 
into  the  kingdom,  while  the  very  children  of  the  king¬ 
dom,  whose  inheritance  it  is,  are  excluded?  This 
would  be  a  shame  and  a  calamity  indeed ;  but  how 
will  you  prevent  it  ? — by  excluding  them  f — by  gain¬ 
ing  possession  of  the  key  of  knowledge,  and  neither 
entering  yourselves,  nor  suffering  those  who  would  to 
enter?  This,  if  it  were  j)ossible,  would  be  the  height 
of  wickedness  and  folly.  ISTo ;  the  true  course  is  to 
enter  with  them,  or,  if  you  will,  before  them.  Your 
true  course  is  to  seek  the  Lord,  his  favour,  his  protec- 


108 


SERMONS. 


tion,  to  call  upon  him,  pray  to  him,  confess  to  him, 
acknowledge  him,  and  that  without  delay — before  it 
is  too  late — now,  even  now — now,  while  he  may  be 
found,  wdiile  he  is  near,  while  he  is  still  your  God  by 
special  covenant.  If  you  w^ould  not  see  the  heathen, 
whom  you  now  despise,  preferred  before  you,  and  re¬ 
ceived  into  the  kingdom  of  Messiah,  while  you  your¬ 
selves  are  shut  out,  use  the  only  sure  preventive — 
‘‘  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near.” 

This  view  of  the  meaning  of  the  text  is  perfectly 
consistent  with  the  context,  and  with  other  passages 
in  which  this  motive  is  presented  to  the  Jews,  as  an 
inducement  to  be  prompt  and  diligent  in  making 
their  calling  and  election  sure.  But  it  may  well  be 
doubted  whether  this  is  the  whole  meaning.  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  this  is  even  the  chief  meaning. 
The  terms  of  the  text  are  in  no  respect  more  restricted 
than  those  of  the  preceding  verses,  and  especially  the 
first  part  of  the  chapter,  which  obviously  relates  to 
the  wants  of  men  in  general,  and  the  best  way  to  sup¬ 
ply  them.  If  the  invitation  of  the  first  verse  is  gen¬ 
eral,  the  exhortation  of  the  text  must  be  general  also. 
If  it  is  to  all  mankind  that  the  prophet  cries — 
“  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the  w'a- 
ters !  ” — it  is  surely  not  to  any  one  community  or 
nation  that  he  here  says :  “  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while 
he  may  be  found,  call  ye  uj)on  him  while  he  is  near.” 
Besides,  if  this  address  be  restricted  to  the  Jews,  the 
reason  implied  for  the  command  is  irrelevant.  If  the 
words  “  while  he  is  near  ”  denote  “  while  he  continues 
in  a  special  covenant  relation  to  the  Jews,”  then  the 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


109 


command  would  seem  to  imply  that  by  seeking 
the  Lord  and  calling  upon  him,  that  peculiar  ex¬ 
clusive  covenant  relation  might  be  rendered  perpetual, 
which  was  not  the  case.  Or  if,  on  the  other  hand, 
“  while  he  may  be  found  ”  denotes  in  a  general  way 
the  possibility  of  finding  favour  and  forgiveness  at  his 
hands,  then  the  reason  suggested  is  in  no  respect  more 
applicable  to  the  Jews  than  to  the  Gentiles.  In  this 
sense  God  was  just  as  near  to  the  one  as  to  the  other. 
The  principles  on  which  he  would  forgive  and  save, 
were  just  the  same  in  either  case.  The  necessity  of 
seeking,  the  nature  of  the  object  sought,  the  way  of 
seeking  it,  are  wholly  independent  of  external  circum¬ 
stances.  As  in  the  context,  so  here,  the  exhortation 
is  addressed  to  all  who  are  in  need.  It  is  therefore 
universal,  or,  at  least,  admits  of  a  universal  applica¬ 
tion.  Even  supposing  that  it  has  a  special  reference 
to  the  Jews,  it  is  clear  that  the  prophet  says,  and 
that,  in  imitation  of  him,  we  may  say  likewise,  both 
to  Jew  and  Gentile,  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may 
be  found,  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near.” 

I  do  not  scruple  to  address  the  call  to  all  who  hear 
j  me.  Are  you  disappointed  and  unsatisfied  ?  then 
seek  the  Lord.  Are  you  oppressed  with  a  sense  of 
guilt  ?  seek  the  Lord.  Are  you  careless  and  at  ease  ? 
I  warn  you  to  seek  the  Lord.  Sooner  or  later  you 
'  will  certainly  seek  him.  However  careless  you  may 
i  now  be,  the  day  is  coming  when  you  shall  seek  and 
i  not  find ;  when  you  shall  call  upon  him  and  receive 
j  no  answer.  There  is  a  limit  to  the  offer  of  salvation. 

*  If  there  were  not,  sin  would  be  without  control.  If 
I  the  sinner  could  suspend  his  choice  forever,  there 


110 


SERMONS 


would  be  no  pnnisliment.  The  offer  is  limited  to  this 
life.  And  even  in  this  life  there  is  a  limit.  There  is 
a  day  of  grace  in  which  men  may  be  saved,  and  this 
day  may  be  shorter  than  the  sinner’s  lifetime.  There 
is  a  time  when  God  is  near,  and  when  he  may  be 
found.  There  must  be  a  time,  therefore,  when  he  is 
no  longer  near,  and  is  no  longer  to  be  found.  Con- 
‘sider  this,  you  who  are  now  asleep  in  sin.  From  that 
sleep  you  must  and  will  awake»  You  will  either 
awake  to  righteousness  or  to  despair.  However  deep 
your  sleep  may  now  be,  and  however  long  it  may 
continue,  you  shall  awake  at  last,  and  in  your  terror 
seek  for  God,  when  he  is  no  more  to  be  found,  and 
call  upon  him  when  he  is  no  longer  near,  when  he  is 
grieved,  and  has  departed,  when  you  shall  “  feel  after 
him  ”  in  vain  amidst  the  darkness  which  surrounds 
you,  and  shall  be  constrained  at  last  to  take  uj)  the 
sorrowful  and  bitter  lamentation,  “The  harvest  is 
past,  the  summer  is  ended,  and  we  are  not  saved.” 
If  this  be  true,  and  it  cannot  be  disputed,  “  seek  ye 
the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found.” 

But  how  shall  you  seek  him  ?  Hot  in  this  or  that 
locality.  Begard  not  those  who  say :  “  Lo  here,  lo 
there ;  ”  but  go  to  him  in  secret,  make  confession  of 
your  sins,  renounce  yourselves,  accept  the  Saviour 
whom  he  offers,  devote  yourselves  to  him,  and  thus 
“  call  upon  him  while  he  may  be  found.”  Is  this  too 
much  to  ask  of  a  poor  ruined  sinner,  as  the  price  of 
his  salvation  ?  But  is  this  indeed  all  ?  Is  no  reforma¬ 
tion,  no  change  of  life,  required  ?  Hot  as  the  merito¬ 
rious  cause  of  your  salvation.  It  is  purchased  by  an¬ 
other.  But  you  cannot  avail  yourselves  of  it,  and 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


Ill 


continue  as  you  are.  You  cannot  be  saved  in  sin. 
You  may  be  saved  from  it.  The  same  voice  which 
says,  “  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near,”  says  likewise,  (v.  7,)  Let 
the  wicked  forsake  his  way.”  He  cannot  continue  in 
that  way,  and  be  saved.  ‘‘  Ho  man  can  serve  two 
masters  ;  ”  but  whosoever  committeth  sin,  he  is  the 
servant  of  sin.”  Between  sin  and  holiness,  between 
God  and  mammon,  he  must  choose.  The  refusal  to 
choose  is  itself  a  choice.  To  refuse  to  choose  God 
is,  in  fact,  to  choose  sin.  In  relation  to  this  question 
there  is  no  neutrality — there  can  be  none. 

If,  then,  the  sinner  would  indeed  seek  God,  he 
must  forsake  his  way,” — a  common  figure  for  the 
I  course  of  conduct.  Life  is  a  journey  which  may  be 
i  pursued  by  many  distinct  paths  ;  but  the  way  of  God 
'  and  the  way  of  sin  lead  in  opposite  directions.  He 
who  would  tread  the  one,  not  only  will,  but  must,  for¬ 
sake  the  other.  How  ? — by  a  mere  external  reforma¬ 
tion?  Ho;  the  change  must  be  a  deeper  and  more 
thorough  one.  The  law  of  God,  which  condemns  the 
sinner’s  life,  extends,  not  only  to  his  outward  acts,  but 
to  his  thoughts,  desires,  dispositions,  and  affections. 
The  moral  quality  of  outward  acts  arises  from  the 
motives  wliicli  ]3roduce  them,  and  the  reformation 
which  the  gospel  calls  for,  reaches  far  beyond  the 
mere  external  conduct.  This  is  often  an  unwelcome 
discovery.  Men  are  at  first  hard  to  be  convinced 
that  there  is  any  danger  in  the  course  which  they  pur¬ 
sue.  When  this  becomes  too  evident  to  be  disputed, 
tliey  are  prone  to  cling  to  the  idea  that  the  gospel 
asks  no  change  or  reformation ;  and  when  this  truth 


112 


SERMONS. 


can  no  longer  be  denied,  they  still  delude  themselves 
with  the  belief  that  the  required  reformation  extends 
merely  to  the  outward  life.  But  this  delusion  is  dis¬ 
pelled,  and  they  are  made  to  hear  the  voice  of  God 
not  only  saying,  “  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,” 
but,  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts.” 

This  is  merely  negative.  It  cannot  be,  that  what 
God  calls  men  to,  is  a  mere  negation,  a  mere  absti¬ 
nence.  There  must  be  something  positive.  There 
must  be  commands  as  well  as  prohibitions.  The  mere 
cessation  of  former  habits  would  be  insufficient ;  nay, 
it  is  impossible.  An  active  being  must  have  some¬ 
thing  to  seek  as  well  as  something  to  avoid.  Evil 
courses  can  be  really  abandoned  in  no  other  way  than 
by  exchanging  them  for  good  ones.  If  men  w^ould 
‘‘  cease  to  do  evil,”  they  must  learn  to  do  well.” 
This  is  a  dictate  of  nature,  of  reason,  of  experience,  of 
revelation.  It  is  the  voice  of  God  himself  who  says. 
Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way  and  the  unrighteous 
man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord.” 
The  fact  is  assumed  that  all  have  departed  from  him. 
The  words  may  seem  strictly  applicable  only  to  back¬ 
sliders — those  wffio  have  falsified  their  own  profes¬ 
sions — who  have  apostatised  from  a  voluntary  visible 
relation  to  Jehovah,  and  who  may  with  strict  pro¬ 
priety  be  summoned  to  “  return,” — to  return  to  Him 
from  whom  they  have  so  deeply  revolted.”  To  any 
such  now  present  I  apply  the  words,  however  far  you 
may  have  gone  back  in  the  wicked  way  whicli  you 
appeared  to  have  forsaken — however  far  your  present 
thoughts  may  be  from  God  and  righteousness — I  call 
upon  you  to  give  ear  to  God’s  rebuke  and  invitation : 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


113 


Let  tlie  wicked  forsake  liis  way  and  tlie  nnrigliteous 
man  liis  tliouglits,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord.” 
This  is  your  only  hope,  and  even  this  may  soon  he 
gone ;  therefore,  “  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be 
found,  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near.” 

But  it  is  far  from  being  true,  that  this  appeal  is 
applicable  only  to  backsliders.  However  strictly  un¬ 
derstood,  it  is  appropriate  to  all  mankind.  It  is  true, 
the  word  “  return  ”  is  used,  and  this  word  certainly 
implies  departure  from  a  previous  state  of  nearness ; 
and  it  may  at  first  sight  seem,  on  this  account,  inap¬ 
plicable  to  the  mass  of  men  ;  for  how,  it  may  he  asked, 
can  they  retimi  to  Him  from  whom  they  never  have 
departed,  hut  from  whom  they  have  always  been 
wholly  alienated  ?  But  this  view  of  the  matter  is  ex¬ 
tremely  sujDerlicial.  It  is  true,  most  true,  that  the 
invitation  to  return  ”  implies  a  previous  departure ; 
and,  can  any  departure  be  more  real  or  deplorable 
than  that  which  involves,  not  merely  individuals,  hut 
the  whole  human  family  ?  The  terms  of  the  summons 
do  indeed  point  back  to  that  original  apostasy  under 
the  curse  of  which  the  whole  race  groans.  'When  the 
rebel  is  exhorted  to  return  to  his  allegiance,  the  call 
comes  Avith  emphasis  enhanced,  not  lessened,  to  the 
ears  of  those  who  are  hereditary  traitors,  born  in  re¬ 
bellion,  inheriting  the  taint,  and  living  in  the  practice 
of  notorious  treason  :  such  is  our  condition.  It  is  un¬ 
der  this  double  burden  that  we  sink ;  it  is  from  this 
double  penalty  that  we  must  be  delivered;  it  is  there¬ 
fore  to  us  all,  without  exception,  that  tliis  solemn  call 
is  addressed — Beturn  unto  tlie  Lord” — ‘‘Let  the 
wicked  forsake  his  way  and  the  unrighteous  man 


114 


SERMONS. 


his  thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,” 
All  who  are  aliens  from  your  God,  to  you  he  says  this 
day,  Keturn  !  return  !  Keturn  with  penitent  confes¬ 
sion  of  your  sins,  with  self-renunciation,  with  submis¬ 
sion,  with  a  solemn  consecration  of  yourselves  to 
God  ;  hut,  above  all,  and  before  all,  in  the  exercise  of 
faith,  believing  in  the  Saviour,  and  accepting  him  as 
3murs.  This  includes  all  the  rest.  Where  this  exists, 
they  follow,  as  a  thing  of  course ;  where  this  exists 
not,  they  are  null  and  void,  without  worth,  nay,  with¬ 
out  existence.  In  the  exercise  of  this  faith,  and  of  that 
repentance  which  has  never  yet  failed  to  accompany  it 
since  the  world  began,  and  of  that  zeal  and  obedience 
which  can  no  more  fail  to  spring  from  such  repentance 
and  such  faith,  than  the  fruit  can  fail  to  spring  from 
the  prolific  seed,  “Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way 
and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him 
return  unto  the  Lord.” 

But  what  is  the  inducement  to  return  Avhich  is 
here  held  out  ?  It  is  man’s  part  to  forsake  his  evil 
w^ays  and  thoughts,  to  return  to  God,  to  seek  him, 
and  to  call  upon  him.  Hone  of  these  wdll  he  do  until 
God  draw  him.  Hone  of  them  can  he  do  until  God 
enable  him.  But  this  is  true  of  every  service  which 
man  ever  renders.  Though  unable  of  himself  to  do 
these  things,  he  is  still  bound  to  do  them.  It  is  his 
part  to  do  them  ;  and  when  he  has  performed  his 
j)art,  what  does  God  promise  in  return  ?  What  will 
he  do  for  man  ?  Lie  will  have  mercy  u]Don  him. 
“  Let  the  wLcked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unright¬ 
eous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the 
Lord,  and  he  will  have  mercy  upon  him.”  Mercy  is 


ISAIAH' 55,  6. 


115 


the  inducement  offered,  and  mercy  is  precisely  what 
the  sinner  needs,  ll^othing  else  can  meet  his  case  hut 
this.  Without  this  nothing  can  he  given,  or,  if  given, 
can  do  him  any  good. 

Mercy  implies  two  things,  misery  and  guilt.  In¬ 
nocent  suffering  may  he  relieved  through  pity,  hut  it 
cannot,  strictly  speaking,  he  regarded  as  an  object  of 
mercy.  And,  on  the  other  hand,  if  guilt  could  exist 
unaccompanied  by  suffering,  it  might  be  pardoned, 
and  the  sinner  might,  in  that  sense,  be  said  to  obtain 
mercy.  But,  in  strictness  of  speech,  the  term  is  ap¬ 
plicable  only  to  those  cases  in  which  misery  and  guilt 
coexist.  And,  alas  for  us  !  this  is,  without  exception, 
the  condition  of  man.  'No  one  sins  without  suffering. 
No  man  suffers  without  guilt.  Individual  sufferers 
may  be  innocent  in  reference  to  those  who  imme¬ 
diately  cause  their  sufferings  ;  and,  on  the  other  hand, 
guilt  may,  for  the  present,  seem  to  be  accompanied 
by  pleasure  only.  But  in  due  time  both  these  false 
a2:)pearances  will  be  removed.  Every  sin  will  be  seen 
to  be  the  necessary  cause  of  sorrow,  and  every  sorrow 
will  be  seen  to  flow  more  or  less  directly  from  sin. 
And,  in  the  meantime,  we  have  no  need  to  look 
^  further  than  ourselves  for  objects  upon  which  mercy 
I  may  be  exercised.  In  us,  in  all  of  us,  the  two  pre- 
I  requisites  are  found  abundantly — misery  present  and 
f  prospective,  the  ex2)erience  of  it  here  and  the  dread 
of  it  hereafter — misery  not  produced  by  chance,  but 
by  ourselves — by  sin,  and  that  our  own  sin.  To  us, 
i  then,  this  inducement  ought  to  be  a  strong  one. 

‘  To  induce,  then,  ‘Hhe  wicked  to  forsake  his  way,  and 
the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts/’  and  to  ‘‘return 


116 


ser’mons. 


unto  the  Lord,”  it  ought  to  he  enough  to  know  that 
that  the  Lord  ‘‘  will  have  mercy  upon  him.” 

But,  alas !  he  is  insensible  of  his  condition.  The 
more  he  stands  in  need  of  mercy,  the  more  blind  he  is 
to  that  necessity.  By  nature,  man  is  never  prompted 
to  implore  God’s  mercy  on  account  of  his  iniquities. 
He  either  asks  nothing,  or  he  cries  for  justice.  While 
he  is  prosperous,  and  life  seems  long,  he  is  content  to 
remain  always  as  he  is.  And  when  death  stares  him 
in  the  face,  or  any  thing  compels  him  to  think  seri¬ 
ously  of  his  end,  he  assumes  the  character  of  injured 
innocence  ;  he  claims  eternal  life  as  the  reward  of  his 
obedience ;  he  appears  before  God  not  to  plead  for 
mercy,  but  to  demand  justice  ;  and,  with  that  demand 
upon  his  lips,  or  in  his  heart,  he  is  often  swept  into 
eternity  to  get  what  he  presumptuously  asked  for. 
Then,  then,  if  not  before,  he  cries  for  mercy  ;  for  that 
very  mercy  which  he  spurned  before,  and  with  that  last 
despairing  cry  iqDon  his  lips,  he  goes  to  his  own  place.” 
Such  is  the  end  of  those  who  presumptuously  ask  for 
justice  and  will  not  have  mercy.  But  it  often  pleases 
God  to  undeceive  the  soul  before  it  is  too  late.  And 
then,  when  the  sinner’s  eyes  are  opened,  he  beholds 
with  wonder  what  he  never  saw  before ;  he  sees  his 
own  condition,  his  own  guilt — the  misery  to  which  that 
guilt  consigns  him,  and  his  utter  incapacity  to  help 
himself.  Ah,  what  a  change  takes  place  then  in  his 
feelings,  and  the  tone  of  his  addresses  to  the  throne  of 
grace.  He  who  once  called  for  justice  at  the  hand  of 
God,  now  sues  for  mercy.  He  who  once  stood  erect, 
and  said,  “  I  thank  thee,  God,  that  I  am  not  like  other 
men,”  is  now  unable  to  lift  so  much  as  his  eyes  to 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


iir 


heaven,  but  smites  upon  his  breast,  and  says,  God 
be  merciful  to  me  a  sinner.’’  Is  it  not  better  that  this 
opening  of  the  eyes  should  take  place  now  than  in 
eternity  ?  “  Seek  ye  the  Lord  then  while  he  may  be 

found,  call  ye  upon  him  while  he  is  near :  let  the  wicked 
forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts, 
and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have 
mercy  upon  him,  and  to  onr  GodP  Do  you  observe 
that  expression,  “our  God?” — the  phrase  by  which 
the  Jews  expressed  their  covenant  relation  to  Je¬ 
hovah.  As  addressed  to  Jews,  the  phrase  may  be 
understood  to  mean,  that  God  was  still  their  God  by 
a  special  engagement ;  and  that,  notwithstanding  their 
departures  from  him,  if  they  would  forsake  their  evil 
ways  and  thoughts,  and  return  unto  him,  he  would 
have  mercy  upon  them,  as  their  God,  as  their  own 
God,  and  fulfil  the  promises  made  unto  their  fathers. 

But  is  there  any  such  encouragement  to  us  who 
are  sinners  of  the  Gentiles  ?  May  we  return  to  God, 
not  merely  as  an  absolute  and  righteous  sovereign, 
but  as  our  own  God,  bound  to  us  by  covenant,  who  . 
will  not,  cannot  cast  us  off?  Yes,  we  may,  even  the 
vilest  sinner  who  forsakes  his  evil  courses  and  returns 
to  God,  may  trust  not  only  in  his  sovereign  mercy, 
but  in  the  faithfulness  of  his  engagements.  Even 
such  he  is  bound  by  covenant  and  by  oath  to  save. 
Even  the  poor,  benighted  heathen,  who  has  never 
been  a  sharer  even  in  the  outward  privileges  of  the 
Christian  church,  may  come  and,  as  it  were,  lay  claim 
to  the  salvation  of  the  gospel,  not  in  his  own  right 
but  in  that  of  another.  Yes,  my  hearers,  whoever  you 
may  be,  and  however  ignorant  of  God  and  of  salva- 


118 


SERMONS. 


tion  until  now,  if  yon  will  but  come  to  bim,  and  come 
to  liim  in  the  way  before  described,  if  yon  will  but 
come  to  him,  forsaking  your  sins  and  repenting  of 
them,  seeking  him  and  calling  upon  him,  and  believ¬ 
ing  in  him,  then  he  is  yours,  your  Saviour,  and  you 
have  a  right  to  say,  not  only  that  the  Lord  will  have 
mercy  but  that  our  God  will  pardon.  He  will  not 
only  pity  and  relieve,  but  pardon ;  he  will  not  only 
pity  and  relieve  distress,  but  pardon  sin.  And  this 
is  absolutely  necessary ;  without  this  there  could  be 
no  real  permanent  relief. 

There  is  no  mercy  opposed  to  justice.  In  the  na¬ 
ture  and  the  works  of  God,  these  attributes  must  har¬ 
monize.  He  cannot  exercise  mercy  until  justice  be 
satisfied.  He  cannot  be  merciful  to  man  until  his 
justice  is  appeased.  But  justice  demands  punish¬ 
ment.  And  man,  if  punished,  must  be  punished 
forever,  because  a  finite  being  cannot  exhaust  the  pen¬ 
alty  of  the  broken  law.  How  then  can  mercy  be  ex¬ 
tended  to  him  ?  Only  by  punishing  another  in  his 
stead.  In  this  substitution  lies  the  sinner’s  only  hope. 
God  gives  his  own  Son  to  be  punished  for  him  ;  not 
forever — ah !  how  would  tliat  impair  the  rapture  of 
forgiveness  and  salvation ;  not  forever — but  long 
enough  to  answer  the  demand,  through  the  infinite 
dignity  and  merit  of  the  sufferer.  In  this  way  and 
in  this  way  only,  God  can  be  just  and  yet  a  justifier. 
In  this  way  he  can  pardon  sin.  In  this  way  he  will 
pardon  all  who  come  unto  him.  Is  not  this  enough  ? 
Is  not  this  a  sufficient  earnest  of  his  willingness  to 
save  ?  “  He  that  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  freely 

gave  him  up  for  us  all,  shall  he  not  with  him  also, 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


119 


freely  give  ns  all  things  ?  ”  Come  then,  seek  the 
Lord  and  call  upon  him,  and  that  without  delay.  Seek 
him  while  he  may  be  found  ;  call  upon  him  wdiile  he 
is  near.  The  way  you  are  in  is  a  had  way — a  destruc¬ 
tive  way,  however  it  may  now  apjDear.  “  There  is  a 
wmy  that  seemeth  right  unto  a  man,  hut  the  end 
thereof  are  the  w^ays  of  death.  ’’  But  “  let  the  wicked 
forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts, 
and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have 
mercy  upon  him.” 

What  is  there  to  prevent  such  a  return  ?  Does 
guilt  stand  in  the  way  ?  He  has  provided  for  this  dif¬ 
ficulty.  Guilt  is  itself  a  reason  for  returning.  “  He 
will  pardon.”  Is  your  guilt  too  great  ?  Too  great 
for  what  ?  To  he  atoned  for  hy  yourself?  Yes,  it  is 
indeed,  even  the  least  sin,  such  as  you  took  no  note  of 
at  the  time,  or  have  long  since  forgotten ;  even  the 
least  of  such  sins  is  too  great  for  expiation  hy  your¬ 
self,  and  unless  otherwise  atoned  for,  will  rise  up 
hereafter  to  condemn  you,  aye,  will  seize  upon  your 
soul  and  plunge  it  into  endless  ruin.  You  who  are 
wont  to  say  or  think  that  you  are  not  a  great  sinner, 
you  shall  yet  he  made  to  see  that  the  most  despised 
and  trivial  sin,  as  you  esteemed  it,  is  enough  to  slay 
your  soul  forever.  But  if  you  mean  that  your  sins 
are  too  great  for  divine  forgiveness,  that  is  another 
matter.  Even  if  pardon  were  a  mere  sovereign,  ar¬ 
bitrary  act  of  mercy,  without  regard  to  justice,  you 
would  have  no  right  to  limit  the  power  and  compas¬ 
sion  of  a  God.  Much  less  when  pardon  is  in  one 
sense  really  an  act  of  justice,  not  to  you  but  to 
another,  when  the  penalty  is  paid  and  justice  fully 


120 


SERMONS. 


satisfied  for  all  believers.  Is  not  this  enough?  Is 
Christ  not  great  enough  ?  Is  his  blood  not  rich  enough  ? 
"Were  his  pangs  not  keen  enough  to  pay  your  debt, 
however  great  and  overwhelming  ?  Do  you  not  see 
that  the  fountain  which  is  oj)ened  for  sin  and  un¬ 
cleanness  is  the  fountain  of  Christ’s  merit,  and  is, 
therefore,  inexhaustibly  abundant,  so  that  God,  for 
his  sake,  cannot  only  j)ardon,  but  abundantly  pardon  ? 
— that  Christ’s  atonement  is  sufficient  in  itself  for  all, 
however  great  the  multitude,  aye,  and  for  all  the  sins 
of  all  whoever  sinned,  however  many  and  however 
heinous?  So  that  God,  for  Christ’s  sake,  cannot 
only  pardon  but  abundantly  pardon  ?  And  he  wdll, 
he  will,  if  he  pardons  at  all,  he  will  abundantly 
pardon.”  Oh,  then,  hear  the  voice  of  invitation, 
whether  old,  inveterate  offenders  or  beginners  in  the 
ways  of  sin — whether  the  burden  of  your  guilt  be 
overwhelming  or  comparatively  liglit — whether  your 
minds  have  hitherto  been  careless,  or  alarmed  about 
your  state — you  are  all  alike  in  danger  and  in  need 
of  speedy  rescue,  “  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may 
be  found,  call  upon  him  while  he  is  near:  let  the 
wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his 
thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he 
will  have  mercy  upon  him,  and  to  our  God,  for  he 
will  abundantly  pardon.  For  my  thoughts  are  not 
your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith 
the  Lord.” 

These  last  words  are  connected  with  what  goes 
before,  by  the  conjunction  “  for” — “  Abrmy  thoughts, 
&c.”  To  what  is  this  for”  to  be  referred — of  what 
does  it  assign  the  reason  ?  Some  have  thought  that 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


121 


it  relates  to  the  national  prejudices  of  the  ancient 
J ews,  to  whom  the  calling  of  the  Gentiles  and  the  ab¬ 
rogation  of  the  Mosaic  system  seemed  impossible 
events,  and  to  whom  the  j^i’ophet  may  be  understood 
as  saying — Do  not  imagine  that  because  this  dispen¬ 
sation  has  so  long  existed,  it  will  last  forever,  or  that 
because  you  are  so  blindly  attached  to  it,  I  will  not 
be  willing  to  annul  it  when  the  time  for  its  cessation 
shall  arrive — “  for  my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts, 
neither  are  your  ways  my  ways.”  But  however  good 
this  sense  may  in  itself  be,  it  is  far  from  being  obvious 
in  this  connection,  and  refers  the  8th  verse  to  a  remote 
and  doubtful  antecedent.  Besides,  as  we  have  seen 
before,  the  terms  of  this  whole  passage  cannot  be  un¬ 
derstood  as  having  reference  merely  to  the  Jewish 
dispensation.  Even  if  that  were  the  primary  and 
obvious  sense,  we  have  abundant  reason  and  authority 
to  superadd  another  more  extensive  and  more  spir¬ 
itual.  But  it  is  not  the  primary  and  obvious  sense, 

I  as  we  have  seen,  and  it  is  therefore  necessary  to  con¬ 
nect  the  for”  with  one  of  the  clauses  of  the  seventh 
verse.  If  with  the  first  clause,  then  the  eighth  verse 
I  gives  a  reason  for  the  call  to  reformation  and  repent¬ 
ance — “  Let  the  wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  un- 
I  righteous  man  his  thoughts — for  my  thoughts  are  not 
your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways.” 
Here  the  same  two  words  are  placed  in  opposition — 
“  ways”  and  thoughts” — let  the  wicked,  &c., — i.  e. 
You  cannot  walk  in  my  ways  and  the  ways  of  sin  ; 
you  cannot  think  my  thoughts,  and  yet  cherish 
thoughts  of  sin  ;  sin  and  salvation  are  irreconcilable, 

I  and  you  must  choose  between  them. 

VOL.  II. — G 


122 


SERMONS. 


This  is,  to  many  who  would  fain  escajDe  perdition, 
a  hard  saying.’’  Having  cherished  the  delusive  hope 
that  free  salvation  implies  liberty  to  sin,  they  are 
painfully  surprised  at  the  discovery  that  God’s  ways 
and  thoughts  are  wholly  incompatible  with  theirs. 
They  are  afraid  of  hell,  and  they  are  willing  to  be 
saved  from  it,  but  that  is  all.  That  slavish  fear  is  the 
sum  of  their  religion.  They  must  keep  their  sins.  At 
first  they  plead  for  all  sin,  then  for  some  ;  and  as  one 
after  another  is  torn  from  them  by  the  hand  of  tlie 
inexorable  law,  although  their  conscience,  now  en¬ 
lightened,  can  no  longer  question  or  deny  the  truth, 
they  hate  what  they  acknowledge,  they  wmuld  gladly 
shut  their  eyes  upon  the  light  which  has  revealed  to 
them  this  odious  truth ;  and  in  the  vain  hope  of 
escaping  it,  many,  ah,  how  many,  draw  back  to  per¬ 
dition,”  and  as  tliey  rush  along  that  downward  course, 
they  still  hear  that  gracious  but  inexorable  voice  cry¬ 
ing  after  them,  Turn  ye,  turn  ye,  for  why  will  ye 
die.”  I  have  given  my  Son  to  die  for  sinners,  and  all 
who  come  unto  me  through  him  I  will  abundantly 
pardon ;  but  the  wicked  must  forsake  his  way,  and 
the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  for  my  thoughts 
are  not  your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my 
ways — ’there  is,  there  can  be  no  communion  between 
light  and  darkness,  between  Christ  and  Belial.  Ah, 
my  hearers,  God  only  knows  in  how  many  ears  this 
expostulating  voice  has  rung,  and  rung  in  vain  ;  how 
many  sinners  on  the  verge  of  death  have  stopped  their 
ears  against  it,  or  at  most  have  paused  and  listened, 
with  one  foot  upon  the  23reci|)ice,  ^^erhaps  looked 


ISAIAH  55,  e. 


123 


back,  and  even  wavered  with  a  momentary  impulse 
to  return,  and  then  forever  disappeared. 

But  there  are  others  whom  divine  ffrace  has  ar- 

O 

rested,  even  those  upon  the  dizzy  verge  of  that  abyss, 
and  made  to  hear  the  warning  voice,  and  see  the 
saving  light  as  it  shines  upon  this  fundamental  truth, 
that  sin  must  be  forsaken  or  the  sinner  cannot  possibly 
be  saved.  But  this  conviction  often  generates  a  new 
doubt  of  another  kind — I  see  it  to  bo  not  only  true 
but  right  that  sin  must  be  left,  or  God  cannot  pardon  ; 
but  can  he  pardon  even  then,  or  if  he  can,  will  he 
pardon,  will  he  pardon  me?  Can  he,  will  he,  pardon 
so  abundantly  that  I  shall  be  included  ?  This  mis¬ 
giving,  under  Satan’s  artful  and  malignant  influence, 
would  drive  men  to  des]3air,  unless  the  grace  of  God 
prevent.  The  soul  admits  the  freeness  and  sutferings 
of  Christ’s  atonement  as  a  truth  revealed,  but  rejects 
it  practically  against  itself ;  it  makes  a  merit  of  its 
unbelief,  the  cross  fades  from  its  view,  its  light  begins 
to  disappear,  tlie  invitations  of  the  gospel  are  less 
audible,  and  at  this  crisis,  some  who  did  not  sink  be¬ 
fore,  sink  now  forever ;  but  to  others,  when  the  voice 
of  man  is  hushed,  the  voice  of  God  becomes  more 
audible — a  voice  both  of  reproof  and  encouragement 
— “Who  art  thou,  O  man,  that  repliest  against  God? 
Thou  thoughtest  that  I  was  altogether  such  an  one  as 
thyself.”  It  is  not  man  who  pardons,  it  is  God.  It 
is  not  you  who  merit,  it  is  Christ.  As  long  as  you 
stay  away  from  him,  nothing  is  pardoned,  not  even 
the  least  sin,  it  will  sting  your  soul  forever  ;  but  come, 
and  all  is  pardoned,  abundantly  pardoned.  “  Let  the 
wicked  forsake  his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his 


124 


SERMONS. 


thoughts,  and  let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he 
will  have  mercy  upon  him,  and  to  our  God,  for  he 
will  abundantly  pardon.  For  my  thoughts  are  not 
your  thoughts,  neither  are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith 
the  Lord.” 

Man  may  be  unforgiving  when  he  is  not  just.  God 
can  be  just,  and  yet  not  unforgiving.  Oh,  glorious 
difference !  Man  can  be  himself  unjust,  and  yet  con¬ 
demn  the  innocent.  God  can  be  just,  and  yet  justify  the 
guilty.  Judge  not  God  by  man.  Judge  not  his  mercy  by 
the  compassions  of  his  erring  creatures.  The  tender 
mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel.  Well,  then,  may  he 
say  to  those  who  ffnd  such  mercy  too  stupendous  to  be 
trusted  in,  “  my  thoughts  are  not  as  your  thoughts,”  &c. 
God  pardons  nothing,  or  he  pardons  all.  Let  the  con¬ 
victed  sinner  cease  to  doubt — let  him  cease  to  linger, 
for  any  reason  or  on  any  pretext — let  him  cease  to 
call  in  question  either  his  danger  or  his  guilt — let  him 
cease,  on  the  other  hand,  to  make  its  greatness  an  ex¬ 
cuse  for  unbelief  or  a  pretext  for  despair  ; — but  since 
he  is  in  danger,  imminent  danger — since  deliverance 
from  it  is  so  freely  offered — since  the  grace  which 
offers  it  is  limited  in  time — since  that  grace  will  not 
save  men  in  sin,  but  will  freely  save  i\\Qm  from  sin — 
since  it  will  pardon  sin  itself  to  the  believer,  and 
whenever  it  pardons  at  all,  will  abundantly  pardon 
even  the  chief  of  sinners — however  foreign  such  for¬ 
giveness  may  be  from  human  passions  and  human  feel¬ 
ings,  let  the  sinner  hesitate  and  doubt  no  longer — 
‘‘  Seek  ye  the  Lord  while  he  may  be  found,  call  ye 
upon  him  while  he  is  near :  let  the  wicked  forsake 
his  way,  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thouglits,  and 


ISAIAH  55,  6. 


125 


let  him  return  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  Lave  mercy 
upon  him,  and  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  par¬ 
don  :  for  my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  neither 
are  your  ways  my  ways,  saith  the  Lord  :  for  as  the 
heavens  are  higher  than  the  earth,  so  are  my  ways 
higher  than  your  ways,  and  my  thoughts  than  your 
thoughts.” 


VII. 


PniLippiANS  3,  13.  14. — Brethren,  I  count  not  myself  to  ha’v  e  ap¬ 
prehended  :  but  this  one  thing  I  do,  forgetting  those  things  which  are 
behind,  and  reaching  forth  unto  those  things  which  are  before,  I  press 
towards  the  mark  for  the  prize  of  the  high  calling  of  God  in  Christ 
Jesus. 

TVithout  attempting  any  formal  exposition  of  the 
text  or  context,  and  without  enlarging  on  the  obvious 
allusion  to  the  ancient  games,  from  which  the  sacred 
writers  borrow  many  of  their  strongest  figures,  such 
as  that  of  pressing  forward  to  a  marii  for  a  prize  in 
the  case  before  us,  I  propose  to  call  your  attention, 
lor  a  short  time,  to  the  doctrine  here  suggested  by  the 
apostle’s  own  example,  and  exjDlicitly  taught  else¬ 
where,  that  religion  in  the  heart  is  a  progressive  pian- 
ciple — a  principle  impelling  to  progressive  holiness  ; 
and  that  not  merely  by  a  positive  appointment,  but 
from  its  nature,  and  the  nature  of  the  circumstances 
under  which  it  operates — that  this  progressive  char¬ 
acter  affords  the  only  satisfactory  evidence  that  piety 
exists  at  all,  and  is  therefore  necessary,  not  to  an  ab¬ 
solute  assurance  merely,  but  to  a  comfortable  hope ; 
and  finally,  that  this  new  disposition  to  forget  what  is 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


127 


beliindj  and  reach  forth  to  that  before,  is  a  chief 
source  of  liappiness  to  Christians  here,  and  is  to  be  a 
large  ingredient  of  their  blessedness  hereafter. 

In  alleging  that  progress  is  essential  to  true  piety, 
it  is  not,  of  course,  intended  to  affirm  that  this  essen¬ 
tial  progress  is  at  all  times  equally  discernible  and 
marked,  or  that  it  can  at  any  time  be  measured  step 
by  steji ;  but  merely  that  the  changes  which  the  soul 
is  ever  undergoing  are,  in  the  case  of  true  conversion, 
on  the  whole,  in  one  direction — to  deny  which,  on  the 
ground  of  certain  fluctuations,  or  because  we  cannot 
measure  and  compute  the  2^1'ogi'ess  with  unerring  ac¬ 
curacy,  would  be  as  absurd  as  to  remain  upon  the 
beach  at  the  mercy  of  a  rising  tide,  because  the  mo¬ 
tion  of  the  waves,  when  separately  looked  at,  is  not 
uniform.  If  it  be  true  in  this  case,  that  in  spite  of  all 
apparent  reflux,  the  sea  is  still  encroaching  steadily 
upon  the  land,  until  it  reaches  that  mysterious  point 
at  wdiich  God  says  to  it.  Hitherto  slialt  thou  come, 
and  no  further,  and  here  shall  thy  proud  waves  be 
stayed ;  it  is  no  less  true  that  genuine  religion  in  the 
heart,  in  spite  of  all  its  seeming  fluctuations,  rises  and 
still  rises,  and  that  this  rise  must  at  some  intervals, 
greater  or  smaller,  become  visible  and  palpable,  and 
may  not  therefore  be  assumed  at  pleasure,  when  ap¬ 
pearances,  not  only  in  some  one  case,  but  in  every 
case,  and  always,  are  entirely  against  it.  Let  no  man 
therefore  judge  his  neighbour  as  a  hypocrite,  because 
he  thinks  he  sees  a  retrograde  movement  as  to  some 
particular,  or  on  some  occasion ;  nor  let  any  man  ad¬ 
judge  himself  a  saint,  and  cherish  the  belief  that  the 
standard  of  his  piety  is  rising  in  the  gross  when  it  is 


128 


SERMONS. 


evidently  sinking  in  detail ;  bnt  wliere  we  see  anotlier 
making  progress  from  year  to  year,  or  month  to  month, 
if  not  from  week  to  week,  or  day  to  day,  let  ns  thank 
God  for  the  grace  that  is  given  nnto  him ;  and  when, 
on  the  other  hand,  we  find  ourselves  from  day  to  day, 
or  week  to  week,  receding,  let  ns  not  dream  that  at 
the  month’s  end,  or  the  year’s  end,  the  defect  will 
cure  itself,  or  even  that  past  attainments  will  atone  for 
future  losses  ;  bnt  forgetting  that  which  is  behind, 
let  ns  reach  forth  to  that  which  is  before. 

The  authority  of  Scripture  is  snfiicient  to  establish 
that  the  fact  alleged,  as  to  the  progressive  nature  of 
religion,  is  so.  That  it  must  be  so,  may  be  further  ar¬ 
gued  from  the  nature  of  the  subject  in  which  the 
change  is  wrought — from  the  nature  of  the  cause  by 
which  it  is  effected — from  the  nature  of  the  means 
employed  in  its  production — from  the  nature  of  the 
end  designed  to  be  effected — and  from  the  nature  of 
the  change  itself  so  far  as  it  can  be  distinctly  scruti¬ 
nized. 

And  first,  it  may  be  argued  from  the  nature  of  the 
subject,  which  is  man,  an  active  being,  one  essen¬ 
tially  active.  As  the  soul,  anterior  to  conversion,  was 
in  progress,  going  from  one  degree  of  evil  to  another, 
strengthening  its  habits,  settling  its  judgments,  fixing 
its  affections,  so  it  may  and  must  be  expected  to  make 
progress  in  the  new  direction  given  to  it,  unless  there 
be  something  in  the  very  nature  of  a  saving  change 
adverse  to  such  a  process  ;  but  this,  as  we  shall  see, 
is  so  far  from  being  true,  that  what  may  be  said  of 
the  natural  condition  of  the  soul,  may  be  still  more 
emphatically  said  of  its  new  state — that  it  cannot  be 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


129 


liappy  without  progress ;  nay,  that  whether  happy  or 
not,  it  cannot  exist  without  progress,  because  it  can¬ 
not  exist  without  some  exercise  of  its  powers  and  af¬ 
fections  ;  and  this  very  exercise  gives  strength,  and 
this  increase  of  strength  is  progress.  Because  man, 
then,  is  the  subject  of  the  change  which  takes  place 
in  conversion,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that  the  new 
character  imjiarted  to  the  soul  will  not  continue  as  it 
is,  but  constantly  become  more  marked  and  perma¬ 
nent. 

The  same  thing  seems  to  follow  from  the  nature  of 
the  power  which  effects  the  change.  If  this  effect 
could  be  ascribed  to  chance,  or  to  a  momentary  im¬ 
pulse,  it  might  be  expected  to  continue  as  it  is  at  first, 
or  even  to  cease  and  disappear ;  but  when  the  power 
of  God,  almighty  and  unceasing,  is  the  sole  efficient 
cause  of  what  we  call  conversion,  it  seems  unreasona¬ 
ble  to  suppose  that  that  cause  is  to  operate  forever,  or 
even  for  a  time,  with  a  view  merely  to  the  sustenta- 
tion  of  these  faint  beginnings  of  a  sj)iritual  life  which 
we  experience  within  us.  If  the  spark  which  grace 
has  kindled  had  been  left  to  itself,  or  to  the  feeble 
breath  of  mortals  to  preserve  it,  we  might  well  sup¬ 
pose  that  nothing  more  than  its  continued  existence 
was  intended  ;  but  when  we  find  an  unbroken  current 
of  life-giving  air  from  the  breath  of  the  Almighty 
brought  to  play  upon  that  spark,  we  may  conclude 
with  safety  that  it  was  meant  to  glow  and  kindle  to  a 
flame,  and  that  the  flame  was  meant  to  rise  and  spread, 
and  to  become  a  conflagration ;  so  that  what  at  first 
w^as  but  a  seed  of  fire,  smothered  in  ashes,  drenched 
in  rain,  or  blown  at  random  by  the  viewless  winds, 

VOL.  II. — 6* 


130 


SERMONS. 


shall  yet  light  up  the  whole  horizon,  and  dye  the  very 
heavens  with  its  crimson. 

Look  again  at  the  means  which  are  employed  for 
the  implanting  of  religion  in  the  sonl,  and  judge  by 
these  whether  it  was  intended  to  be  shortlived  or  sta¬ 
tionary.  If  we  found  no  other  means  employed  but 
those  of  a  natural  and  ordinary  natnre,  such  as  human 
wisdom  might  devise  and  human  power  set  in  mo¬ 
tion,  then  we  might  plausibly  infer,  that  what  we 
now  have  in  ^Dossession  is  the  whole  that  God  in¬ 
tended  to  bestow  upon  ns,  and  might  strive  to  rest 
contented  with  onr  actual  attainments.  But,  my 
hearers,  could  it  be  to  keep  alive  such  piety  as  yon 
and  I  possess,  without  improvement  or  increase,  that 
God  the  Father  gave  his  Son  to  die,  and  that  God  the 
Son  assumed  onr  natnre,  took  onr  place,  paid  onr 
debt,  and  bore  onr  chastisement?  Was  it  that  yon 
and  I  might  be  forever  what  we  now  are,  even  grant¬ 
ing  that  onr  hopes  of  salvation  were  w^ell-fonnded? 
Is  it  for  this  that  the  Almighty  Spirit  bloweth  where 
it  listeth,  and  though  grieved  from  many  a  hard 
heart,  returns  and  lights  again  that  spark  which  sin 
quenched,  and  opens  the  blind  eyes,  and  teaches  the 
poor  stammering  tongue  of  the  wretched  sinner  how 
to  pray  ;  yea,  itself  maketh  intercession  for  him,  with 
groanings,  with  groanings  that  cannot  be  uttered  ? 
Is  there  not  in  the  seeming  prodigality  of  means  so 
infinite,  so  godlike,  a  presumptive  proof  that  these 
effects  which  we  experience  are  but  partial  and  in¬ 
choate  ;  that  the  end  is  not  yet ;  and  that  it  doth  not 
yet  appear  what  we  shall,  what  we  must  be,  to  attain 
not  only  the  great  end  of  our  existence,  but  the  end 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


131 


for  wliicli  a  sovereign  God  lias  moved  all  heaven  and, 
as  it  were,  poured  himself  out  npon  creatures  ?  O  my 
brethren,  if  such  are  the  means  which  God  has  used 
to  bring  us  thus  far,  we  must  not  stop  here,  we  must 
go  on,  we  must  go  on,  we  must  forget  what  is  behind, 
we  must  reach  forth  to  that  which  is  before.  Re¬ 
member,  too,  that  such  an  agent  cannot  use  such 
means  without  a  purpose,  and  an  adequate  purpose. 

What  then  is  the  end  for  which  this  change  is 
wrought,  if  wrought  at  all  ?  hTot  mere  deliverance 
from  present  pain.  That  does  not  always  follow  in 
fact,  and  if  it  did,  would  be  wholly  disproportioned 
to  the  power  working,  and  the  means  employed, 
hfot  mere  deliverance  from  future  misery,  for  that  is 
still  inadequate.  .  ISTot  even  man’s  restoration,  though 
this  is  infinitely  more  and  better  than  the  others  ;  but 
it  is  not  all.  If  the  ultimate  end  of  all  this  were  in 
man,  he  would  usurp  God’s  place :  there  cannot  be 
two  Gods — there  cannot  be  two  last  great  ends  to  be 
accomplished  ;  it  is  all  for  God  or  none — it  is  for  God 
■ — it  is  for  God — it  is  for  his  praise  and  glory  that  the 
whole  work  is  accomplished.  And,  my  hearers,  can 
it  be  that  the  whole  tribute  of  our  rational  and  spir¬ 
itual  natures  to  the  honour  of  our  Maker,  is  this  feeble, 
faint  beginning  of  spiritual  life  which  we  profess  to 
feel  within  us  ?  Is  tliis  all  ?  O  if  Almighty  power, 
and  benevolence,  and  wisdom  have  provided  a  sacri¬ 
fice  of  infinite  merit,  and  a  spiritual  influence  of 
boundless  efiicacy,  and  have  brought  these  means  to 
bear  upon  our  miserable  souls,  not  for  our  own  sakes, 
but  that  God  may  be  honoured  by  our  restoration 
to  the  knowledge  and  enjoyment  of  tlic  higiiest  good  ; 


SERMONS. 


ia2 

where  shall  tire  limits  of  that  knowledge  and  enjoy¬ 
ment  he  assigned,  so  long  as  God  is  God,  his  praise 
the  end  of  onr  existence,  and  his  desert  of  praise  as 
endless  as  his  being  ?  O  my  hearers,  if  we  are  saved 
to  Iionour  God,  and  if  we  can  never  honour  him 
enough,  surely  we  may  not,  dare  not  think  of  remain¬ 
ing  as  we  are,  if  that  were  possible.  Surely,  if  we 
would  answer  the  great  end  of  our  salvation,  we  must 
forget  that  which  is  behind,  and  reach  forth  to  that 
which  is  before. 

Once  more  the  nature  of  the  change  itself^  so  far 
as  Scripture  and  experience  reveal  it,  shows  that  it  is 
but  an  incipient  change,  and  must  be  carried  on  for¬ 
ever.  What  does  the  change  consist  in  %  Kot  in  any 
thing  external,  not  in  any  thing  corporeal,  but  in  the 
mind,  and  yet  not  in  the  structure  of  the  mind ;  not 
in  the  creation  of  new  faculties  or  in  the  destruction 
of  old  ones,  but  in  new  desires,  dispositions,  and  affec¬ 
tions.  These  must  have  their  objects,  and  their  act¬ 
ings  on  these  objects  must  increase  their  strength, 
enlarge  their  scope,  and  stimulate  their  energies.  If 
God  then  has  created  new  desires  within  us,  or  the 
desire  of  new  obj  ectSy  to  wit,  holiness,  and  truth,  and 
God  himself,  and  if  these  new  desires  from  their  very 
nature  reproduce  themselves,  and  if  this  process  can¬ 
not  possibly  be  cut  short  by  the  failure  of  the  objects 
which  are  infinite,  then  surely  from  the  very  nature 
of  the  change  which  God  has  wrought  upon  us  if  we 
are  converted,  we  not  only  may,  but  must  go  on.  If 
we  are  changed  at  all,  we  must  be  changed  still  fur¬ 
ther.  If  we  are  not  what  we  once  were,  if  we  have 
left  as  it  were  ourselves  behind,  we  must  forget  our- 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


133 


selves,  we  must  forget  wliat  is  behind,  we  must  reach 
forth  to  that  which  is  before.  Thus  from  the  nature 
of  the  subject  of  the  change,  viz.,  the  soul  of  man; 
from  the  nature  of  the  power  by  which  the  change  is 
wrought,  viz.,  the  j)Ower  of  God ;  from  the  nature  of 
the  means  employed,  viz.,  the  death  of  Christ  to  save 
from  death  and  purchase  life,  and  the  influence  of  the 
Spirit  to  produce  life  in  us ;  from  the  nature  of  the 
end  proposed,  viz.,  the  endless  glory  of  an  inflnite 
being ;  and  from  the  essential  nature  of  the  change 
itself,  consisting  in  such  a  new  creation  and  direction 
of  the  powers  as  must  necessarily  result  in  spiritual 
progression  ;  from  all  this,  as  well  as  from  the  express 
declarations  of  the  Word  of  God,  confirmed  by  the 
experience  of  all  true  converts,  it  is  plain,  it  is  certain, 
that  whoever  has  come  thus  far,  must  go  further ;  that 
no  one  may,  or  can  rely  upon,  or  be  contented  with, 
that  which  is  behind,  but  must  forget  that  which  is 
behind,  and  still  reach  forth  to  that  which  is  before. 

It  seems  to  me  that  these  considerations  are  abun¬ 
dantly  sufficient  to  evince,  that  the  divine  intention 
in  effecting  such  a  change  as  some  of  us  profess  to 
have  experienced  is,  that  we  should  go  on  further  and 
forever  glorifying  God  by  new  degrees  of  holiness  and 
new  acts  of  obedience.  And  unless  we  are  prepared 
to  disown  the  authority  of  that  God  who  is  not  only 
our  Creator  but  our  Saviour,  we  must  humbly  ac¬ 
knowledge  that  a  solemn  and  eternal  obligation  rests 
upon  us,  no  matter  what  we  have  attained  or  may 
attain  hereafter ;  to  forget,  in  a  certain  sense,  all  that 
is  behind,  and  to  reach  forth  to  that  vdiich  is  before. 
JBut  it  has  pleased  God  to  enforce  those  obligations 


134 


SERMONS. 


under  wliicli  liis  sole  authority  suffices  to  lay  us,  by 
showing  us  how  clearly  our  own  interest  depends  not 
only  on  obedience  to  his  will  in  general,  but  on  sub¬ 
mission  to  his  will  in  this  particular,  and  on  a  cheer¬ 
ful  co-operation  with  it.  In  the  case  before  us,  this 
is  clear  from  the  fact,  that  if  progress  is  essential  to 
the  very  nature  of  a  saving  change,  there  can,  of 
course,  be  no  proof  of  its  having  taken  place,  in  which 
this  circumstance  is  not  involved.  The  present  is 
transitory  ;  what  is  future  now  will  be  past  in  a  mo¬ 
ment,  and  so  on  forever.  Before  us  and  behind  us 
stretch  the  future  and  the  past.  Our  hopes  and  fears 
from  their  very  nature  have  relation  to  the  future,  yet 
we  seek  to  found  them  upon  something  in  the  past. 
Even  while  we  lean  forward  with  intense  anxiety  to 
scan  the  future,  we  still  cast  a  longing,  lingering  look 
behind,  at  something  there  on  which  to  fasten  as  a 
ground  of  hope.  So,  in  seeking  to  satisfy  ourselves 
that  we  have  undergone  the  change  which  is  essential 
to  salvation,  we  accumulate  and  hoard  up  our  expe¬ 
riences,  even  when  their  emptiness  is  proved  by  sub¬ 
sequent  events :  our  native  disposition  is  to  trust  in 
that  which  is  behind,  wdiereas  the  Scriptures  teach  us 
to  tread  upon  it,  that  we  may  rise  higher,  and  instead 
of  believing  that  all  will  be  well  hereafter,  because 
we  thought  that  all  was  well  some  time  ago,  to  grap¬ 
ple  with  futurity  itself,  to  hasten  towards  the  consum¬ 
mation  of  our  course,  not  by  recalling  wdiat  we  once 
thought  and  felt,  but  by  thinking  now  and  feeling 
now  as  God  requires  us  to  tliink  and  feel  with  respect 
to  what  is  coming. 

We  are  like  one  sailing  down  a  rapid  stream,  in- 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


135 


tensely  anxious  as  to  tlie  issue  of  our  voyage,  and 
fearful  of  tlie  dangers  which  await  us,  and  yet  turning 
our  hacks  on,  both,  and  trying  to  derive  encourage 
ment  from  gazing  at  that  portion  of  our  course 
already  past,  and  every  moment  growing  less  and  less 
visible.  Of  what  avail,  to  such  a  mariner,  is  even  a 
distinct  view  of  some  distant  point  long  since  swept 
by,  when  his  vessel  is  approaching  some  perilous  pass, 
or  passing  through  some  vast  and  foaming  estuary 
into  the  deep  sea.  O  surely  it  is  then  time  to  forget 
what  is  past,  and  to  bend  forward,  to  reach  forth  to 
that  which  is  before.  My  hearers,  we  may  ]3lease 
ourselves  with  other  proofs  of.  piety,  but  if  we  w^ould 
be  well  assured  that  we  have  moved  at  all  from  our 
original  ^^osition,  we  must  move  still  further.  We 
may  spend  our  lives  in  measuring  or  guessing  at  the 
distance  passed  already,  but  the  strongest  assurance 
of  our  having  come  to  any  given  point  in  the  ap- 
,  pointed  course,  is  furnished  by  our  travelling  beyond 
it  to  another.  Are  you  doubtful  whether  you  have 
come  as  far  as  you  imagine  ?  then  go  further.  Are 
you  doubtful  whether  you  possess  as  much  religion  as 
you  fain  would  think  ?  then  try  to  possess  more,  and 
the  attainment  of  the  greater  will  involve  the  attain¬ 
ment  of  the  less.  To  you  especially,  my  hearers,  Avho 
believe  that  you  have  lately  found  the  entrance  to 
the  way  everlasting,  and  yet  can  scarcely  believe 
you  have  passed  through  it,  make  assurance  doubly 
sure  by  leaving  the  entrance  door  afar  behind 
you.  If  you  would  have  a  satisfactory  persuasion 
that  the  world,  and  the  tlesh,  and  the  devil  are  for¬ 
saken,  you  must  attain  it  not  by  standing  still,  and 


136 


SERMONS. 


looking  at  yonr  past  course  either  with  complacency 
or  doubt,  but  by  forgetting  that  which  is  behind,  and 
reaching  forth  to  that  which  is  before. 

God,  by  making  this  the  only  solid  ground  of  con¬ 
fidence  that  you  are  saved,  has  shut  you  up  to  the 
necessity  of  progress,  has  compelled  you  to  move  on, 
if  you  would  know  and  be  assured  that  you  have 
moved  at  all.  And  thus  he  brings  your  personal 
anxieties,  and  care  for  your  own  safety,  to  enforce  the 
obligation  of  a  duty  which,  although  you  could  not 
utterly  neglect  it,  might  have  been  too  carelessly  per¬ 
formed.  Not  only  because  God  commands  it,  but 
because  you  cannot  otherwise  be  sure  of  your  conver¬ 
sion,  you  must  learn  to  forget  that  which  is  behind, 
and  to  reach  forth  to  that  which  is  before. 

But  there  is  yet  another  way  in  which  the  same 
thing  is  accomplished.  All  that  has  just  been  said 
would  be  true,  if  stagnation  or  repose  in  religious 
life  were  possible.  I  have  hitherto  proceeded  on  the 
supposition  that  the  only  alternative  is  progress  or 
stagnation  ;  that  the  worst  which  can  befall  the  soul 
which  will  not  go  on  is,  that  it  must  stand  still.  And 
I  have  tried  to  show  that  even  then  it  would  be  ag¬ 
gravated  sin  and  folly  not  to  advance.  But  O  how 
unspeakably  is  this  conclusion  strengthened  by  the 
fact  which  I  have  hitherto  left  out  of  view,  that  there 
is  no  such  thing  as  standing  still,  or  resting  on  your 
oars.  Forward  or  backward,  up  or  down  the  stream, 
you  must  and  will  go.  Yes,  my  hearers,  reason  and 
experience  but  echo  the  instructions  of  God’s  word  as 
to  this  momentous  truth,  and  I  call  them  both  to  wit-  • 
ness,  to  set  to  their  seal,  that  God  is  true,  when  he  i 


PniLIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


137 


declares  that  from  him  that  hath  not,  i.  e.  hath  not 
more  abundantly,  who  does  not  gain,  who  does  not 
make  advances,  shall  be  taken  away  even  that  he 
hath. 

It  wonld  be  easy  to  show  from  the  very  constitu¬ 
tion  of  onr  nature,  and  the  circumstances  in  which 
we  are  placed,  the  reason  of  this  universal  fact ;  but 
I  choose  rather  to  appeal  to  your  experience,  and  ask 
you  when  you  ever  wilfully  neglected  or  ceased  to 
use  the  means  of  improvement  without  a  positive  de¬ 
terioration.  Let  us  take  it  for  granted,  as  we  safely 
may,  that  the  choice  is  not  between  onward  motion 
and  repose,  but  between  onward  motion  and  recession. 
Will  the  convalescent  choose  to  be  a  convalescent  all 
his  life,  instead  of  seeking  to  regain  his  health? 
Does  he  not  know  that  unless  he  soon  regains  it,  he 
may  look  for  a  relapse,  and  for  peril  of  death  greater 
tlian  before.  He  does,  he  does,  and  so  may  you,  my 
hearers.  God  has  shut  you  up  to  the  necessity  of 
going  on,  by  limiting  your  choice  to  that  or  going 
ba^^k;  by  showing  you  that  motion  cannot  be  avoided; 
that  you  must  rise  or  sink;  that  you  must  grow  worse 
fjY  better ;  that  you  must  draw  nearer  to  God,  or  be 
driven  further  from  him;  that  you  must  love  him 
more  than  you  do  now,  or  love  him  less ;  that  you 
must  go  on  and  live,  or  go  back  and  die ;  that  however 
unprepared  you  may  have  been  for  the  necessity  now 
laid  upon  you,  however  far  you  have  been  from  fore¬ 
seeing  the  solemnity  and  peril  of  the  juncture  where 
you  now  are,  it  is  even  so,  it  is  too  late  to  seek  another 
choice,  another  alternative ;  you  are  shut  up  forever 
to  this  one,  you  must  either  forget  what  is  before,  re- 


138 


SERMONS. 


trace  your  steps,  repent  of  your  re]3entance,  and  go 
back  to  tliat  wbicli  is  beliind  ;  or,  on  tlie  other  band, 
forgetting  that  wbicb  is  behind,  you  must  reach  forth 
to  that  which  is  before. 

And  now,  my  hearers,  how  are  you  disposed  to 
regard  this  law  of  the  new  life,  which  forbids  not  only 
retrocession  but  repose  ;  which  insists  upon  perpetual 
progression,  and  accepts  of  nothing  short  of  this  pro¬ 
gression  as  conclusive  evidence  of  its  own  existence  ? 
Are  you  ready  to  say,  as  the  disciples  said  of  old, 
“  this  is  a  hard  saying,  who  can  hear  it  ?  ’’  Are  you 
ready  like  some  of  them  to  go  back  from  the 
Saviour  and  walk  no  more  with  him  ?  Ah !  consider 
what  you  do,  and  if  such  thoughts  rise  within  you, 
crush  them,  I  pray  you,  in  their  very  birth.  For  I 
assure  you  that  this,  so  far  from  being  cruel,  is  a  mer¬ 
ciful  economy,  required  not  only  by  God’s  honour 
but  your  interest ;  a  dispensation  tending  purely  and 
directly  to  your  highest  happiness  in  time  and  in 
eternity,  so  that  if  you  could  but  see  its  operation  and 
its  issue  you  would  rather  die  than  be  subjected  to  a 
different  constitution,  i.  e.  one  which  should  allow 
you  to  go  backwards  and  to  stagnate  instead  of 
urging  you  forever  onwards.  And  you  would  thus 
choose,  not  because  you  felt  yourself  constrained  to 
sacrifice  a  present  and  inferior  good  for  a  greater  one 
still  future ;  not  because  you  were  enabled  by  Divine 
grace  to  forego  all  ease  and  happiness  at  present,  lest 
you  should  finally  come  short  of  it  forever,  but  be¬ 
cause  you  would  perceive  in  this  “  hard  saying,”  this 
inexorable  law  of  progress,  an  exhaustless  source  of 
purest  satisfaction,  an  unfaltering  incitement  to  ex- 


PHILIPPIANS  3,  13.  14. 


139 


ertion,  an  abundant  consolation  nnder  trials.  Yes,  tlie 
trials  of  the  Cliristian  ■would  be  hard  indeed  to  bear, 
bitter  alike  in  blossom  and  in  fruit,  if  it  were  not  for 
this  new-born  and  immortal  disposition  to  know  more, 
to  do  more,  to  rise  higher,  to  grow  better,  to  grow 
more  like  God,  to  approach  nearer  to  him,  and  the 
accompanying  disposition  to  regard  the  past,  not  past 
sins,  but  past  attainments,  as  a  mere  fulcrum,  a  mere 
stepping-stone,  a  round  upon  the  sjiiritual  ladder,  by 
which  higher  things  may  be  attained. 

But  this  conviction,  reasonably  as  it  might  be 
founded  on  the  daily  experience  of  its  efficacy  even  in 
the  least  affairs  of  life,  cannot  be  felt  in  all  its  strength 
until  it  is  obtruded,  forced  upon  the  mind,  by  the 
working  of  the  self-same  principle  in  great  emergen¬ 
cies  and  critical  junctures ;  as  for  instance  when  the 
mind  is  first  awakened  by  the  Spirit  to  a  sense  of  sin. 
Bemember,  O  remember,  when  that  light  first  beamed 
into  your  soul  with  an  intolerable  brightness,  and  you 
saw  yourself,  your  heart,  your  past  life,  your  innumer¬ 
able  sins,  set  before  you  in  a  light  which  you  could 
neither  bear  nor  shut  your  eyes  upon.  Eecur  to  that 
point  of  your  sj)iritual  history,  recall  the  feelings 
which  that  retrospect  produced ;  the  shame,  the  sor¬ 
row,  the  remorse,  the  self-abliorrence,  and  I  do  not  ask 
you  whether  you  could  then  have  consented  to  re¬ 
main  in  that  abyss  of  filth  and  darkness  where  you 
saw  yourself  to  have  been  rolling  till  the  voice  of 
God  aroused  you,  and  a  light  from  heaven  showed 
you  your  condition  ;  for  with  such  views  that  would 
be  impossible.  You  could  not  thus  repent  of  your  re¬ 
pentance,  and  become  your  former  self  again.  But  I 


140 


SERMONS. 


ask  you  wlietlier  you  could  have  consented,  or  wketker 
you  can  wisli  that  you  had  been  left  to  languish  and 
to  stagnate  till  the  end  of  life  ;  not  indeed  within  that 
slough,  but  just  without  it,  on  its  verge,  in  sight  of  it, 
in  sight  of  nothing  better ;  safe,  safe,  but  only  safe 
without  the  power  or  desire  of  onward  progress ; 
chained  for  a  lifetime  to  the  contemplation  of  what 
you  had  been  ;  forced  to  look  upon  the  hideous  cor¬ 
ruption  of  your  former  state,  without  relapsing  into 
it,  but  at  the  same  time  without  getting  further  from 
it  than  at  the  moment  of  your  actual  deliverance  ;  a 
shipwrecked  sailor  chained  to  the  rock  on  which  he 
had  found  refuge ;  a  convalescent  leper,  bound  at  the 
threshold  of  the  lazar  house,  whose  poison  he  had 
been  for  years  inhaling.  Could  you  have  borne  it  ? 
Ko,  my  hearer,  you  could  not.'^ 


*  The  conclusion  of  this  sermon  is  wanting. 


VIII. 


Luke  18,  1-8. — And  he  spake  a  parable  unto  them  to  this  end^  that 
men  ought  always  to  pray,  and  not  to  faint ;  saying,  There  was  in  a 
city  a  judge,  which  feared  not  God,  neither  regarded  man  :  And  there 
was  a  widow  in  that  city ;  and  she  came  unto  him,  saying,  Avenge  me 
of  mine  adversary.  And  he  would  not  for  a  while  :  but  afterward  he 
said  within  himself.  Though  I  fear  not  God,  nor  regard  man ;  yet  be¬ 
cause  this  widow  troubleth  me,  I  will  avenge  her,  lest  by  her  continual 
coming  she  weary  me.  And  the  Lord  said,  Hear  what  the  unjust 
judge  saith.  And  shall  not  God  avenge  his  own  elect,  which  cry  day 
and  night  unto  him,  though  he  bear  long  with  them  ?  I  tell  you  that 
he  will  avenge  them  speedily.  Nevertheless,  when  the  Son  of  man 
cometh,  shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth  ? 


All  is  not  easy  that  appears  so  to  a  hasty,  snper- 
hcial  observation,  which  is  apt  to  mistake  the  sim¬ 
plicity  of  strength  for  the  simplicity  of  weakness. 
The  most  wonderful  discoveries,  when  once  made, 
may  seem  obvious.  The  highest  creations  of  genius 
appear  level  to  the  humblest  capacity.  The  pro- 
foundest  wisdom  often  shows  no  more  surface  than 
the  shallowest  folly.  Of  this  the  parables  of  Christ 
are  eminent  examples.  Many  a  sage  and  scholar  has 
neglected  them  as  only  fit  for  children.  Others  have 
looked  upon  them  as  befitting  themes  for  first  at¬ 
tempts  and  young  beginners  in  the  work  of  exposition. 
The  best  corrective  of  this  error  is  experiment.  As 


142 


SERMONS. 


few  have  failed  to  entertain  it,  few,  perhaps,  have 
nsed  this  means  without  being  undeceived.  What 
appeared  at  first  incapable  of  two  interpretations,  is 
successively  subjected  to  a  dozen.  Whatever  this 
may  argue  with  respect  to  the  interpreter,  so  far  as 
the  Scriptures  are  themselves  concerned,  it  is  not  a 
fault,  but  a  perfection. 

These  divine  discourses  were  intended  to  accom¬ 
plish  more  than  one  end,  and  to  this  variety  of  pur¬ 
pose  their  structure  is  adapted  with  an  exquisite  preci¬ 
sion.  Some  were  to  see  clearly,  more  w^ere  to  be  daz¬ 
zled.  They  were  also  meant,  at  least  in  many  cases, 
to  be  variously  applied.  A  lesson  crowded  with  al¬ 
lusions  to  the  actual  condition  of  our  Lord’s  imme¬ 
diate  hearers,  is  often  so  constructed  that  these  very 
points  enforce  its  application  to  a  thousand  other 
cases  wholly  different  externally.  Either  from  this  or 
other  causes,  there  is  sometimes  an  illusion,  like  that 
produced  by  a  painting,  seen  from  a  certain  point  of 
observation,  while  from  any  other  it  is  a  distorted 
daub.  The  imagery  of  the  parables,  when  seen  from 
a  particular  distance,  may  be  definite  in  outline,  fault¬ 
less  in  perspective,  perfect  in  colouring.  But  ap¬ 
proach  a  little  nearer,  and  the  figures  lose  their  sym¬ 
metry,  the  tints  their  richness.  This  is  often  a  key 
to  the  correct  mode  of  exposition.  It  forbids  the 
coarse  manipulation  of  the  little-souled  grammarian, 
no  less  than  the  cloudy  indistinctness  of  the  specula¬ 
tive  dreamer.  It  compels  the  one  to  stand  back,  and 
the  other  to  draw  near,  until  they  both  see  neither  too 
much  nor  too  little,  but  precisely  what  they  ought  to 
see,  and  must  see,  if  they  would  see  to  any  purpose. 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


143 


In  this  way,  some  of  the  most  valuable  lessons  may 
be  learned  as  to  the  folly  of  over-refinement  and  ex¬ 
travagant  minuteness  in  the  exj)lanation  of  strong 
figures. 

But  sometimes  this  advantage  seems  to  be  pre¬ 
cluded  or  diminished  by  a  doubt  as  to  the  general  de¬ 
sign  of  the  whole  parable.  This  doubt  may  extend  to 
the  very  doctrine  taught,  or  be  restricted  to  its  appli¬ 
cation.  The  truth  embodied  in  some  parables  is  plain, 
but  it  may  be  questioned  whether  it  is  predicted  of 
the  Jews  or  the  disciples,  or  some  other  class  exclu¬ 
sively,  or  meant  to  be  applied  to  men  in  general.  In 
other  cases,  both  the  doctrine  and  the  application 
may  be  clear ;  but  there  is  something  obscure  in  the 
mode  of  illustration,  an  apparent  incongruity  between 
the  substance  and  the  shadow.  This  appearance  often 
springs  from  a  misapprehension  of  the  image  or  its 
use,  and  then  occurs  one  of  those  instances  of  self-in¬ 
terpretation  which  have  already  been  mentioned.  As 
soon  as  the  true  jDrinciple  is  once  applied,  the  incon¬ 
gruity  is  gone.  This  proves  the  principle  itself  to  be 
correct,  and  fiirnishes,  or  may  furnish,  valuable  aid 
in  solving  other  cases. 

o 

To  this  last  class  belongs  the  parable  from  which 
the  text  is  taken.  There  is  no  indistinctness  in  the 
images  themselves,  nor  any  doubt  as  to  what  they 
were  designed  to  represent.  The  widow  and  the 
judge  stand  out  before  the  mind’s  eye  as  fully  and 
clearly  as  the  forms  of  flesli  and  blood  which  we  re¬ 
member  seeing  yesterday  or  expect  to  see  to-morrow. 
The  widow’s  wrong,  the  judge’s  wickedness,  liis  equal 
scorn  of  God  and  man,  the  prayer,  the  refusal,  the  re- 


144 


SERMONS. 


turn,  tlie  ceaseless  importunity,  tlie  selfish  tyrant’s  rea¬ 
soning  with  himself — all  this  is  like  an  object  of  sense. 
"We  do  not  merely  read — we  see,  we  hear,  we  feel  it 
as  a  real,  present  living  spectacle. 

The  moral,  too,  is  not  left  to  he  guessed  at  or  in¬ 
ferred  ;  it  is  explicitly  propounded.  This  parable 
was  uttered  for  a  certain  end,  to  teach  a  certain  les¬ 
son,  to  produce  a  determinate  efiTect ;  and  that  was, 
that  they  who  heard  it  should  pray  always  and  not 
faint,  not  give  up,  or  desert  their  post — the  Greek 
word  having  properly  a  military  sense  and  applica¬ 
tion.  As  to  the  length  which  we  may  go  in  applying 
it,  the  only  question  that  has  ever  been  raised  is, 
whether  it  had  a  special  reference  to  the  prayers  of 
Christ’s  disciples  after  he  should  leave  them,  till  he 
came  again  for  the  destruction  of  their  nation.  But 
even  if  it  had  been  so  intended,  it  is  one  of  those  cases 
where  the  lesson  taught  to  one  class  is  evidently  uni¬ 
versal  in  its  nature  and  the  purpose  of  the  teacher. 

This  is  the  more  certain  here  because  the  terms 
used  are  so  comprehensive,  and  without  any  qualifying 
adjunct.  “  He  spake  a  parable  unto  them  to  this  end, 
that  it  is  right  or  binding  to  pray  always.”  If,  then, 
there  is  any  obscurity  or  doubt,  it  is  neither  in  the 
images  presented,  nor  in  the  doctrine  taught,  nor,  to 
any  practical  effect,  in  its  application.  But  it  lies  in 
an  apparent  incongruity  between  the  illustration  and 
the  thing  which  it  illustrates.  This  may  be  rendered 
palpable  by  placing  type  and  antitype  over  against 
each  other.  That  the  elect  of  God  should  be  repre¬ 
sented  by  the  WTonged  and  helpless  widow,  agrees 
well  with  the  fact  and  with  the  usage  of  the  Scrip- 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


145 


tnres.  But  the  prayers  which  these  are  bound  to 
offer  without  ceasing,  must  he  prayers  to  God ;  and, 
therefore,  he  would  seem  to  be  the  object  correspond¬ 
ing  to  the  judge  of  the  parable. 

But  this  judge  is  an  unjust  judge;  he  neither 
fears  God,  nor  respects  man.  He  has  no  restraining 
motives  either  here  or  hereafter.  In  addition  to  this 
general  habitual  corruption,  he  is  actually  guilty  in 
this  very  case  of  gross  injustice.  He  is  faithless  to 
his  trust  in  refusing  to  discharge  the  solemn  duties  of 
his  office.  He  perverts  the  right  by  constantly  re¬ 
fusing  to  redress  the  wrongs  of  the  injured.  When  at 
last  he  consents  to  do  so,  it  is  from  the  meanest  and 
most  selfish  motive.  It  is  merely  to  escape  trouble 
and  annoyance.  “  Lest  by  her  continual  coming  she 
weary  me.”  Between  this  character,  this  conduct, 
and  this  motive  for  a  change  of  conduct,  on  one  hand, 
and  the  reasons  for  our  importunity  in  prayer,  upon 
the  other,  what  connection,  what  resemblance,  is  there 
or  can  there  be  ? 

To  some  the  difficulty  may  seem  hopeless,  as  their 
rules  of  interpretation  force  them  to  admit  that  the 
unjust  judge  is  here  a  type  or  representative  of  God 
as  the  hearer  of  prayer,  and  that  being  such,  there 
must  be  a  minute  resemblance  of  the  type  and  anti¬ 
type.  There  have  been  those  who  would  not  scruple 
to  assume  and  carry  out  this  monstrous  notion.  They 
would  say,  perhaps,  that  the  resemblance  is  a  limited 
specific  one  ;  that  God  resembles  the  unjust  judge  only 
in  his  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  the  petitions  of  his  people, 
and  in  granting  their  requests  because  of  their  unceas¬ 
ing  importunity.  In  order  to  sustain  this  view,  they  are 

VOL.  II. — 7 


146 


SERMONS. 


compelled  to  extenuate  tlie  guilt  of  the  unjust  judge, 
and  to  exaggerate  the  suj)posed  resemblance  between 
him  and  God,  lest  the  comparison  should  be  re¬ 
volting. 

But  this  is  utterly  at  variance  with  the  drift  and 
with  the  terms  of  the  description.  Why  is  it  said 
that  the  judge  was  an  unjust  ’’  one  ?  Why  is  it  said 
that  he  “  feared  not  God,  neither  regarded  man  ”  ? 
These  terms  prohibit  all  extenuation.  They  are  evi¬ 
dently  added  for  the  very  purpose  of  determining  the 
character.  Injustice  and  contempt  of  God  and  man, 
are  not  incidentally  mentioned ;  they  are  j)rominent. 
They  do  not  modify  the  character ;  they  constitute  it. 
It  is  as  an  “  unjust  judge  ”  that  he  is  held  up  to  our 
view;  and,  lest  we  should  mistake  his  quality,  we  are 
told  that  he  neither  feared  God  nor  respected  man. 
This  accumulation  of  condemnatory  phrases  makes  it 
certain  that  the  wickedness  of  the  judge  is  an  essen¬ 
tial  sti’oke  in  the  description.  The  idea  evidently  is, 
that  the  worse  we  make  him  out,  the  better  we  shall 
understand  the  parable.  W e  cannot,  therefore,  substi¬ 
tute  a  merely  careless,  sluggish,  or  forgetful  judge, 
much  less  a  weak,  but  honest  one,  without  destroying 
all  the  point  and  meaning  of  the  apologue. 

How,  then,  are  we  to  reconcile  this  seeming  incon¬ 
gruity  ?  How  can  the  conduct  of  this  selfish  tyrant 
to  a  helpless  sufferer,  be  any  illustration  of  a  just  and 
merciful  God’s  dealing  with  “  his  own  elect  ”  ?  One 
thing,  at  least,  is  certain,  that  in  this,  and  by  parity 
of  reasoning  in  all  like  cases,  it  does  not  follow,  be¬ 
cause  two  things  are  compared  in  one  point,  that  they 
must  be  alike  in  every  other  ;  nor  even  that  they  must 


IjXJKE  18j  1—8. 


14Y 


be  alike  in  all  the  points  wliicli  are  specifically  men¬ 
tioned.  For  neither  the  character  in  general,  nor  the 
conduct  in  this  one  case,  nor  the  motive  for  reforming 
it,  can  possibly  have  any  counterpart  in  the  divine 
nature  or  dispensations.  The  only  points  of  contact 
are  the  mutual  relation  of  the  parties  as  petitioner 
and  sovereign,  the  withholding  of  the  thing  requested 
and  its  subsequent  bestowal.  In  all  tlie  rest  there  is, 
there  can  be  no  resemblance ;  there  is  perfect  con¬ 
trariety. 

Why,  then,  was  this  unsuitable  image  chosen  even 
for  the  sake  of  illustration  ?  Why  was  not  the  Hearer 
of  Prayer  represented  by  a  creature  bearing  more  of 
his  own  image  ?  Why  was  not  the  judge  of  the  par¬ 
able  a  conscientious,  faithful  magistrate,  who,  though 
compelled  to  j)iit  off  a  compliance  with  the  prayer  of 
the  poor  widow,  still  designed  to  grant  it,  and  allowed 
her  to  come  often  and  return  unsatisfied,  in  order  that 
her  wishes  might  be  kept  upon  the  stretch  until  it 
became  possible  to  satisfy  them  ?  Because  this  would 
not  have  answered  our  Lord’s  purpose,  but  would  only 
have  taught  feebly  by  comparison  what  is  now  taught 
mightily  by  contrast.  The  certainty  of  our  prayers 
being  answered  could  not  possibly  be  strengthened  or 
evinced  by  any  similar  proceeding  upon  man’s  part. 
The  ground  of  confidence  here  furnished  is  not  the 
similitude  of  God  to  man,  but  their  infinite  disparity. 
The  argument  implied  is  not,  that  if  imperfect  good¬ 
ness  goes  so  far,  that  perfect  goodness  must  go  fur¬ 
ther  ;  but,  that  if  a  certain  good  effect  may  be  ex¬ 
pected  to  arise  fortuitously  out  of  what  is  evil,  it  may 
surely  be  expected  to  arise  necessarily  out  of  what  is 


148 


SERMONS. 


good.  If  even  such  a  character,  governed  by  such 
motives,  may  be  rationally  expected  to  take  a  certain 
course,  however  alien  from  his  native  disposition 
and  his  habits,  there  can  be  no  risk  in  counting  on 
a  like  result  where  all  these  adverse  circumstances 
favour  it. 

This  view  of  the  parable,  or  of  the  reasoning  in¬ 
volved  in  it,  as  founded  not  on  mere  comparison,  but 
contrast,  does  away  at  once  with  the  necessity  of 
strained  constructions  and  unnatural  refinements.  In¬ 
stead  of  trying  to  exculpate  the  unrighteous  judge,  or 
even  to  extenuate  his  guilt,  we  are  at  liberty,  or  rather 
under  the  necessity  of,  taking  the  description  in  its 
strongest  sense.  The  worse  he  is,  the  better  for  the 
beauty  and  effect  of  our  Saviour’s  illustration.  We 
are  also  freed  from  the  necessity  of  seeking  points  of 
fanciful  resemblance  between  this  ideal  person  and 
the  Father  of  Mercies,  to  whom  all  flesh  come  as  to 
the  Hearer  of  Pra^^er.  When  the  object  is  no  longer 
to  assimilate,  but  to  distinguish  and  confront  as  oppo¬ 
sites,  we  may  give  the  language  of  the  text  its  full 
force,  without  any  fear  of  blasphemy  or  even  of  ir¬ 
reverence. 

The  three  main  points  of  the  antithesis  are  these 
— the  character,  the  practice,  and  the  motive  of  the 
judge — his  moral  character,  liis  official  practice,  and 
his  motive  for  acting  upon  this  occasion  in  a  manner 
contrary  to  both.  His  official  practice  is  intimated 
by  the  word  unjust  applied  to  him  near  the  conclu¬ 
sion  of  the  parable.  If  this  were  meant  to  be  descrip¬ 
tive  merely  of  his  inward  dispositions,  it  would  add 
nothing  to  the  previous  description.  It  refers  more 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


149 


probably  to  the  habitual  discharge  of  his  functions, 
to  his  exercise  of  power.  He  was  not  only  destitute 
of  any  love  to  justice  or  any  wish  to  do  it,  but  unjust 
in  practice.  The  interior  source  of  this  exterior  con¬ 
duct  is  then  described  in  other  terms.  He  feared  not 
God.  He  neither  reverenced  him  as  a  sovereign,  nor 
dreaded  him  as  an  avenger.  Without  this  fear,  jus¬ 
tice  is  impossible.  He  only  can  command  who  knows 
how  to  obey.  He  only  can  direct  the  fears  of  men  to 
right  and  wholesome  uses,  who  is  himself  governed 
by  the  fear  of  God.  A  judge  who  ‘Gears  not  God,’’ 
is  of  necessity  an  “  unjust  judge.” 

But  this,  though  decisive  of  the  real  character, 
is  not  necessarily  so  of  the  outward  conduct.  If  the 
acts  of  men  were  always  an  unerring  index  of  their 
moral  state,  the  world  would  be  a  very  different  world 
from  what  it  is.  If  human  society  depended  for  its 
temporal  advantages  exclusively  on  genuine  virtue, 
it  would  soon  come  to  an  end.  There  are  appear¬ 
ances  of  goodness  which,  although  abominable  in  the 
sight  of  God,  are  highly  esteemed  among  men,  and 
for  that  very  reason,  have  a  social,  civil  or  political 
value,  wholly  irrespective  of  their  moral  wmrth  or 
wortlilessness.  These  outside  virtues,  having  no  pure 
fountain  in  the  heart,  must  spring  from  other  sources. 
They  are  not  the  fruit  of  politic  contrivance  and  col¬ 
lusion,  being  only  overruled  for  civil  ends  by  Provi¬ 
dence.  Their  real  source  is  in  the  selfishness  of  those 
who  practise  them. 

Among  the  motives  which  may  act  upon  this  prin¬ 
ciple,  not  the  least  potent  is  the  f^ar  of  man.  This 
may  include  the  dread  of  his  displeasure,  the  desire 


150 


SEKBIONS. 


of  liis  applause,  and  an  instinctive  shrinking  even 
from  his  scorn.  Shame,  fear,  ambition,  all  may  con¬ 
tribute  to  produce  an  outward  goodness  having  no 
real  counterpart  within.  This  is  particularly  true  of 
public  and  official  acts.  Hovf  many  magistrates  and 
office-bearers,  who  have  no  right  principle  to  guide  or 
check  them,  are  controlled  by  a  regard  to  the  decen¬ 
cies  of  life,  to  the  conventional  exactions  of  society, 
in  short,  to  public  sentiment.  Such  fear  not  God  but 
man.  They  can  brave  the  terrors  of  eternity,  but  not 
the  nearer  retributions  of  the  present  life.  They  can  con¬ 
sent  to  risk  their  souls,  but  not  to  jeopard  their  re- 
sj)ectability.  Under  the  influence  of  this  selflsh  but 
most  salutary  fear,  they  do  what  they  would  other¬ 
wise  leave  undone,  and  abstain  from  what  would 
otherwise  be  done  without  a  scruple. 

There  would  thus  seem  to  be  three  grounds  for 
expecting  justice  and  fldffiity  in  human  society,  and 
especially  in  public  trusts.  The  flrst  and  highest  is 
the  fear  of  God,  including  all  religious  motives — then 
the  fear  of  man  or  a  regard  to  public  sentiment — and 
last,  the  force  of  habit,  the  authority  of  precedent,  a 
disposition  to  do  that  which  has  been  done  before, 
because  it  has  been  done  before.  These  three  impul¬ 
sive  forces  do  not  utterly  exclude  each  other.  They 
may  coexist  in  due  subordination.  They  may  all  be 
necessary  to  a  complete  official  character.  The  first 
in  that  case,  must  control  the  others,  but  the  others, 
under  that  control,  may  answer  an  important  purpose. 
The  man  who  fears  God,  does  not,  on  that  account, 
despise  the  judgment  of  his  fellows,  though  it  cannot 
be  to  him  the  ultimate,  supreme  rule  of  his  conduct. 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


151 


The  same  is  true  of  a  regard  to  settled  usage,  or 
even  to  j^^Lsonal  habit,  when  correctly  formed.  In¬ 
deed,  these  latter  motives  never  have  so  powerful  an 
indnence  for  good,  as  when  they  act  in  due  subordina¬ 
tion  to  the  fear  of  God.  It  is  only  when  this  is  want¬ 
ing,  and  they  undertake  to  fill  its  place,  that  they 
become  unlawful  or  objectionable.  And  even  then, 
although  they  cannot  make  good  the  deficiency  in 
God’s  sight,  they  may  make  it  good  in  man’s. 
Although  the  root  of  the  matter  is  not  in  them,  a 
short-lived  verdure  may  be  brought  out  and  main¬ 
tained  by  artificial  means.  In  this  case,  the  defect  is 
one  which  cannot  be  supplied.  But  even  where  the 
secondary  lower  motives  fail  or  cease  to  act,  the  con¬ 
sequence  may  be  unhappy.  The  most  conscientious 
man,  who  disregards  the  public  sentiment  or  tramples 
on  established  usage,  may  do  far  less  than  he  might 
have  done,  though  far  more  than  the  demagogue  who 
lives  on  popular  applause,  or  the  precisian  who  ac¬ 
knowledges  no  higher  law  than  custom.  The  want  of 
any  one  of  these  impulsive  forces,  may  detract  from 
the  completeness  of  the  ultimate  efiect.  How  much 
more  the  absence  of  them  all ! 

If  the  judge,  for  instance,  who  is  governed  by  the 
fear  of  God,  and  pays  due  respect  to  the  opinion  of 
mankind,  may  fall  short  of  the  standard,  through  a 
want  of  fixed  habit,  or  contempt  of  settled  usage ; 
if  he  who,  in  addition  to  this,  sets  at  nought  the  judg¬ 
ment  of  his  fellows,  sinks  still  lower  in  the  scale,  how 
low  must  he  sink  who  has  not  even  honesty,  much 
less,  religion  to  compensate  for  his  minor  errors  !  In 
other  words,  how  utterly  unjust  must  that  judge  be 


152 


SERMONS. 


who  neither  fears  God  nor  regards  man.  It  seems 
then,  that  the  few  words  which  onr  Saviour  uses,  are 
so  happily  chosen  and  so  well  applied  as  to  exhaust 
the  subject,  by  affording  a  description  of  an  abso¬ 
lutely  worthless  judge,  on  whom  none  of  the  ordinary 
motives  to  fidelity  have  any  infiuence,  and  from  whom 
nothing,  therefore,  can  be  expected.  "What  could  be 
more  hopeless  than  the  case  of  the  poor  widow  at  the 
feet  of  such  a  tyrant  ?  If  he  knows  neither  fear  nor 
shame — if  there  is  nothing  to  restrain  him  either  in 
the  present  or  the  future — if  she  has  not  the  means  of 
appealing  to  his  avarice — how  clear  it  seems  that  his 
refusal  to  avenge  her  is  a  final  one,  and  that  con¬ 
tinued  importunity  can  only  waste  time  and  provoke 
him  to  new  insult. 

I  dwell  on  these  particulars  to  show  that,  in  their 
aggregate,  they  are  intended  to  convey  the  idea  of  a 
ho23eless  case.  The  petitioner  w^as  helpless — she  was 
j)oor — she  was  at  the  mercy  of  her  enemies.  The 
judge  was  habitually  unjust,  and  uninfluenced,  either 
by  the  fear  of  God  or  by  resj^ect  for  man.  What  is 
this  but  to  say — and  to  say  in  the  most  gra2)hic  and 
ex23ressive  manner — that  the  case  is  hopeless — that 
her  importunity  is  vain  ?  And  yet  she  j^erseveres ;  so 

have  thousands  in  like  cases.  Whv  ?  Because  there 

■/ 

is  nothing  more  to  lose,  even  though  there  may  be 
nothing  to  ho2)e.  And  there  always  is  some  room  for 
hope.  For  ho]3e  does  not  depend  on  certainties  nor 
even  2)rob abilities,  but  on  possibilities.  When  there 
can  be  no  change  for  the  worse,  and  a  change  for  the 
better  is  even  barely  possible,  men  will  hoj^e,  from 
the  very  constitution  of  their  nature.  When  the 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


153 


widow’s  case  is  said  to  be  hopeless,  it  is  not  said  with 
respect  to  her  own  feeling,  but  with  respect  to  any 
rational,  aiipreciable  ground  of  hope.  She  hopes 
against  hope.  An  indomitable  instinct  triumphs  over 
reason.  She  persists  in  her  entreaties.  So  have 
thousands. 

The  ideal  case  was  meant  to  bring  before  us  a 
familiar  practice.  It  is  equivalent  to  saying.  Men  in 
such  situations  still  confide  in  the  effect  of  importu¬ 
nity.  When  every  thing  seems  plainly  to  forbid  it, 
they  persist,  because  success  is  possible,  and  on  that 
possibility  the  natural  repugnance  to  despair  exerts 
itself.  Yes,  even  in  the  most  discouraging  condition, 
men  will  fo  their  fellow-men,  so  long  as  there  is 
a  possibility  of  having  what  they  ask.  And  in  this 
perseverance  they  are  often  justified  by  the  event. 
Of  this  fact  too,  the  widow’s  case  is  but  a  type.  With 
every  reason  to  cease  praying,  she  prayed  on  and  she 
was  heard  at  last.  When  every  higher  motive  failed, 
a  lower  one  was  still  available.  She  could  not  bribe 
but  she  could  weary  him.  Tie  who-  neither  feared 
God  nor  regarded  man,  was  tenderly  mindful  of  his 
own  ease.  He  did  not  say,  lest  God  be  angry”  or 
‘Gest  man  despise  me,”  but  he  said,  ^Gest  by  her  con¬ 
tinual  coming  slie  weary  me.”  This  might  have 
seemed  a  frail  foundation  for  the  hope  of  the  2^eti- 
tioner,  or  rather  it  would  never  have  occurred  to  her 
as  likely  to  decide  her  case,  and  yet,  on  this  it  turned 
at  last.  Lest  she  should  weary  him  he  did  her  jus¬ 
tice.  Her  continued  importunity  was  therefore 
justified  by  its  success.  She  did  well  in  continuing 
to  urge  her  claim,  however  little  reason  she  might 

VOL.  II. — 7* 


154 


SERMONS. 


have  to  look  for  its  success.  The  widow  in  the  para¬ 
ble  and  those  of  whom  she  is  the  type  or  rej)resenta- 
tive,  do  right,  act  reasonably  in  thus  persevering, 
even  where  the  case  seems  desj)erate  and  every  ra¬ 
tional  consideration  is  in  favour  of  abandoning  the  suit. 

There  is  often  a  divine  art  in  our  Saviour’s  para¬ 
bles,  by  which  we  are  led  unawares  to  pass  judgment 
on  ourselves.  This  is  sometimes  recorded  as  the  actual 
effect  produced  upon  the  unbelieving  Jews.  But  the 
effect  is  often  still  more  general.  It  arises  partly 
from  the  peculiarities  of  structure  wffich  have  been 
described.  The  indistinctness  of  the  images  present¬ 
ed,  seems  at  times  to  be  intended  to  disguise  the  final 
application  of  the  lesson  till  its  truth  is  fully  recog¬ 
nized.  In  this  way  the  Pharisees  were  made  to  utter 
their  own  sentence,  and  in  this  way  we  too  may  be¬ 
come  our  own  judges  without  knowing.  The  simpler, 
the  more  natural  tlie  case  supposed,  the  more  tre¬ 
mendous  is  the  force  of  its  recoil  upon  the  real  object. 

In  the  parable  before  us,  we  are  all  led  irresistibly 
to  own  that  the  widow’s  persevering  application  to 
the  unjust  judge  was  rational  and  right,  although  ap¬ 
parently  the  case  was  hopeless.  Though  there  seemed 
to  be  nothing  in  the  character,  the  habits,  or  the  cir¬ 
cumstances  of  the  judge,  on  which  a  reasonable  ex¬ 
pectation  could  be  founded,  yet  we  know  that  she 
was  right,  because  she  gained  her  end,  and  that  not 
by  accident,  but  in  a  way  entirely  natural  and  likely 
to  occur  again.  The  true  force  and  application  of 
the  parable  may  best  be  shown  by  varying  the  ideal 
case  presented,  first  a  little,  and  then  more,  until  it 
merges  in  the  real  case  it  was  intended  to  illustrate. 


IiTJK.E  18,  1^8. 


155 


The  conclusion  which  we  have  already  reached  is, 
that  the  widow  in  the  parable  did  right,  acted  a  rea¬ 
sonable  part,  in  hoping  against  hope,  and  still  persist¬ 
ing  in  her  suit  when  every  thing  combined  to  prove 
it  hopeless.  If  so,  the  converse  of  the  proposition 
must  be  true;  and  by  abandoning  her  suit  or  suspend¬ 
ing  her  entreaties  she  would  have  been  chargeable 
with  folly  and  with  sin  proportioned  to  the  interests 
at  stake.  If  it  had  been  her  own  subsistence  merely, 
that  would  be  enough  to  condemn  her  dereliction, 
how  much  more  if  that  of  others  were  dependent  on 
the  same  decision.  She  would  have  had  no  right  to 
sacrifice  the  comfort  and  tranquillity,  much  less  the 
life  or  the  salvation  of  her  children  to  her  own  de¬ 
spondency  or  weariness  of  effort.  All  this  is  certain, 
and  will  be  at  once  admitted  in  the  case  which  the 
parable  supposes,  to  wit,  that  of  an  unjust,  unmerci¬ 
ful,  and  selfish  judge,  who  feared  not  God  neither 
regarded  man.” 

Eut  let  us  suppose  that  he  had  been  an  upright, 
conscientious,  faithful  judge,  whose  execution  of  his 
office  was  delayed  by  some  mistake  or  want  of  infor¬ 
mation.  How  much  less  excusable  would  she  have 
then  been  in  relinquishing  her  rights  or  those  of 
otliers  in  despair!  Suppose  again  that  there  had  not 
been  even  ignorance  or  error  on  the  judge’s  part  to 
make  the  issue  doubtful,  but  that  his  decision  was 
delayed  by  temporary  circumstances  which  were 
likely  soon  to  have  an  end.  The  case  would  then  be 
stronger  still,  and  the  folly  of  abandoning  the  suit 
still  greater. 

Eut  advance  another  step.  Imagine  that  the  grant- 


156 


SERMONS. 


ing  of  tlie  widow’s  prayer  liad  been  deferred  for  the 
sake  of  the  petitioner  herself,  in  order  that  the  favour 
when  obtained  might  be  enhanced  in  value.  Suppose 
that  instead  of  knowing  that  the  judge  was  in  principle 
and  habit  unjust,  she  had  known  him,  by  experience, 
to  be  just  and  merciful,  as  well  as  eminently  wise. 
Suppose  that  she  had  been  protected  by  him,  and  her 
wrongs  redressed  in  many  other  cases.  Suppose  that 
she  had,  even  in  the  present  case,  his  promise,  nay 
his  oath  that  justice  should  be  done  her.  llow  easy 
must  it  then  have  been  to  trust !  How  doubly  mad 
and  wicked  to  despair ! 

There  seems  to  be  room  for  only  one  more  sup230- 
sition.  Those  which  have  been  stated,  from  the  low¬ 
est  to  the  highest,  all  imply  the  possibility  of  error  or 
delinquency,  however  strong  the  reasons  for  expecting 
the  actual  exercise  of  wisdom  and  integrity.  But 
now  reinove  this  possibility.  Exclude  all  chance  of 
intellectual  or  moral  wrong.  Enlarge  the  attributes 
before  supposed,  until  they  reach  infinity  or  absolute 
perfection.  What  then  would  be  left  as  the  founda¬ 
tion  or  the  pretext  of  a  doubt  ?  The  bare  fact  of  de¬ 
lay?  Tinder  this  pretence,  suppose  the  suitor  to 
despair  and  to  renounce  his  suit.  Is  not  this  indeed 
a  case  of  madness,  too  extreme  to  be  supposed  ?  be¬ 
cause  it  could  not  occur  often,  even  if  it  occurred 
once.  Alas !  my  hearers,  tliis  extreme  case  is  our 
own.  It  is  to  this  view  of  ourselves,  that  the  con¬ 
summate  wisdom  of  the  Master  brings  us  by  a  way 
that  we  knew  not.  Just  so  far  as  we  practically  doubt 
the  promises  of  God,  or  fail  to  use  the  means  of  his 
appointment,  we  reverse  the  conduct  of  the  widow  in 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


157 


tlie  parable,  and  that  too  under  tlie  most  aggravating 
circnmstances.  If  sbe  was  wise  in  hoping  against 
hope,  what  must  we  he  in  despairing  against  evidence  ? 

From  this  conviction  we  perhaps  take  refuge  in 
the  false  view  of  the  parable  before  exposed.  *We 
would  fain  deny  the  possibility  of  arguing  from  one 
case  to  the  other.  For  this  purpose  we  exaggerate 
and  multiply  the  points  of  difference.  She  asked  for 
justice  ;  we  for  mercy  or  free  favour.  Her  judge  was 
unjust,  impious,  and  reckless ;  ours  is  the  infinitely 
Floly  God.  She  gained  her  end  by  exhausting  his 
patience ;  but  the  everlasting  God,  the  Lord,  the 
Creator  of  the  ends  of  the  earth,  fainteth  not,  neither 
is  weary.”  How  then  can  we  be  either  bound  or 
condemned  by  her  example?  Because  she  at  last 
wearied  an  unjust  judge  into  doing  right  in  order  to 
escape  a  worse  annoyance,  what  ground  have  we  to 
hope  that  we  can  weary  the  Most  High  into  com¬ 
pliance  with  our  wishes  ?  It  need  scarcely  be  said 
now,  that  this  is  not  the  true  state  of  the  case.  The 
true  state  of  the  case  is  this.  If  she  would  have  been 
chargeable  with  sin  and  folly  in  despairing  of  justice 
from  an  unjust,  impious,  and  reckless  judge,  who 
feared  not  God  neither  regarded  man,  what  may  we 
be  charged  with  if  we  despair  of  mercy,  freely  offered, 
dearly  purchased,  clearly  promised,  on  the  part  of 
God  himself?  If  she  was  right  in  trusting  to  the 
selfish  love  of  ease  in  such  a  man,  how  wrong  must 
we  be  in  distrusting  the  benevolence,  the  faithfulness, 
the  truth  of  such  a  God  ! 

Every  point  of  dissimilitude  between  the  cases 
does  but  serve  to  make  our  own  still  worse  and  less 


158 


SERMONS. 


excusable,  by  bringing  into  shocking  contrast  men’s 
dependence  on  the  worst  of  their  own  species,  with 
their  want  of  confidence  in  God.  For  what  the 
widow  in  the  parable  did,  all  men  do  substantially. 
They  will  not  be  deprived  of  any  temporal  hope,  how¬ 
ever  great  the  human  wickedness  which  seems  to 
crush  it.  On  the  contrary,  they  will  not,  in  a  multi¬ 
tude,  alas,  a  vast  majority  of  cases,  be  persuaded  to 
trust  God,  and  to  prove  their  trust  by  importunity  in 
prayer,  however  ample  the  encouragement,  however 
strong  and  unequivocal  the  promise. 

The  extensive  application  of  the  lesson  here  taught 
is  apparent  from  the  nature  of  the  principles  involved. 
It  is  impossible  to  feign  a  case  at  all  analogous,  to 
which  it  may  not  be  as  properly  applied  as  to  the  one 
expressly  mentioned.  The  only  grounds  of  limitation 
which  have  ever  been  suggested,  are  the  suj)posed 
reference  to  the  downfall  of  Jerusalem,  and  an 
alleged  restriction  of  the  parable  by  Christ  him¬ 
self  to  the  specific  grant  of  mngeance  on  the  enemies 
of  Tlis  elect.  The  first  has  been  already  shown  to  be 
really  no  limitation,  even  if  the  primary  intention 
were  the  one  supposed.  The  other  rests  upon  a  two¬ 
fold  misconception.  In  the  first  place,  the  avenging 
here  meant  is  judicial  or  forensic  vindication  ;  the 
redress  of  wrongs  endured,  and  the  assertion  of  dis¬ 
puted  rights.  The  adversaries  meant,  as  appears  from 
the  form  of  the  original  expression,  are  the  adverse 
party  in  a  case  of  litigation.  There  is  no  allusion, 
therefore,  to  the  gratification  of  inalicious  or  revengeful 
passions.  In  the  next  place,  even  if  there  were,  it 
would  belong  to  the  type  and  not  to  the  antitype, 


LUKE  18,  1-8. 


159 


and  be  no  better  reason  for  restricting  the  import  of 
the  ]iassage,  than  tlie  fact  tbat  the  petitioner  is  repre¬ 
sented  as  a  widow.  Because  tbe  ideal  judge  says,  “  I 
will  avenge  her,  lest  by  lier  continual  coming  slie 
•  weary  me,”  our  Lord,  adapting  bis  expressions  to 
tbe  case  supposed,  says,  “  Shall  not  God  do  likewise  ; 
shall  not  be  avenge  bis  own  elect,  which  cry  day  and 
night  unto  him,  though  he  bear  long  with  them  ?  ” 
This  evidently  means,  shall  he  not  at  last  hear  their 
prayers,  though  he  long  defer  an  answer  ?  So  instead 
of  saying,  Yes,  he  will  surely  hear  them,  he  still  re¬ 
tains  the  costume  of  the  parable  in  answering  his  own 
demand  :  I  tell  you  that  he  will  avenge  tliem  speed¬ 
ily,”  i.  <3.,  he  will  do  v/hat  they  ask  more  certainly,  be¬ 
cause  for  reasons  altogether  different,  and  from  motives 
infinitely  higher  than  those  for  which  the  unjust  judge 
consented  to  avenge  his  helpless  but  importunate  pe¬ 
titioner. 

But  how  shall  it  be  speedily,  when  by  the  very 
supposition  it  is  long  deferred  ?  Because  the  longest 
term  of  expectation,  when  surveyed  by  an  eye  of 
faith,  and  not  of  doubt  or  jealous  apprehension,  will 
be  short  enough  to  the  believer  ;  and  because  contin¬ 
ued  expectation  of  the  right  sort,  while  it  fortifies  his 
faith,  is  constantly  diminishing  the  period  of  its  ex¬ 
ercise.  If  we  really  believe  that  God  will  grant  us 
our  petitions,  we  shall  gladly  acquiesce  in  his  ap¬ 
pointed  time,  and  own,  when  he  “  avenges  ”  us, 
whether  it  be  sooner  or  later,  that  he  did  it  speed¬ 
ily.”  The  only  question  is,  have  we  that  faith,  to 
which,  as  to  the  Lord  himself,  “  one  day  is  as  a  thou¬ 
sand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day  ”  The 


100 


SERMONS. 


only  difficulty  of  the  case  is  in  ourselves,  and  hence 
the  Saviour  winds  up  his  divine  instructions  with  a 
“  nevertheless  ;  ”  i.  e.^  notwithstanding  the  immense 
weight  of  preponderating  reasons  for  implicit  confi¬ 
dence  in  God,  expressed  by  importunity  in  prayer — 
notwithstanding  the  gross  folly,  and  the  aggravated 
guilt  of  that  despondency  which  “  casts  off  fear  and 
restrains  prayer  before  God” — ^though  the  faith  re¬ 
quired  is  so  simple,  so  reasonable,  so  delightful — is  it 
common,  is  it  ever  to  be  universal  ?  The  reasons  for 
believing  are  the  most  complete  and  satisfactory  con¬ 
ceivable.  “  bTevertheless  when  the  Son  of  Man  cometh, 
shall  he  find  faith  on  the  earth  ?  ”  This  solemn  ques¬ 
tion  comes  home  just  as  really  to  us,  as  if  we  were  to 
meet  the  Lord  on  earth  to-morrow.  And  if  we  would 
answer  it  aright  let  us  remember  that  the  faith  in 
question  is  a  faith  that  must  be  proved  and  exercised 
by  prayer ;  so  that  if  men  would  either  have  it  or  dem¬ 
onstrate  that  they  have  it,  they  ought  always  to 
pray,  and  not  to  faint.” 


2  Kings  17,  33. — They  feared  the  Lord,  and  served  their  own  gods. 

The  fear  of  tlie  Lord  is  tlie  beginning  of  knowl¬ 
edge  ” — “  tlie  fear  of  tlie  Lord  is  tlie  beginning  of 
wisdom,”  are  two  of  Solomon’s  most  pregnant  max¬ 
ims  ;  or  ratlier  two  forms  of  tbe  same,  wliicli  is  again 
rejieated  in  tlie  book  of  Psalms,  f  Tlie  word  “  be¬ 
ginning  ”  in  all  tliese  cases,  may  be  strictly  understood 
as  having  reference  to  time.  This  is  the  point  from 
which  all  successful  students  of  true  wisdom  must  set 
out.  Their  first  lesson  is  to  fear  the  Lord.  If  they 
cannot  learn  this,  they  can  learn  nothing,  to  any  val¬ 
uable  purpose.  They  can  no  more  attain  to  high 
degrees  of  wisdom  without  this,  than  a  child  can  learn 
to  read  wfithout  a  knowledge  of  the  alphabet.  This 
comparison,  however,  like  all  others,  ceases  to  hold 
good  at  a  certain  point  of  the  application.  The  el¬ 
ementary  Icnowledge,  with  which  the  culture  of  the 
child  begins,  is  afterwards  left  far  behind,  as  some¬ 
thing  which  no  longer  claims  attention.  But  in  spir¬ 
itual  culture  the  first  elements  of  knowledge  and  its 
ultimate  attainments  may  be  said  to  be  identical. 


*  Prov.  1,7:  9,  10. 


f  Psalm  111,  10. 


162 


SERMONS. 


The  fear  of  the  Lord  ”  is  as  really  the  end  as  “  the 
beginning  of  wisdom/’  although  not  in  such  a  sense 
as  to  exclude  progression,  and  a  vast  yariation  of  de¬ 
gree  in  the  experience  of  one  and  the  same  person. 

“  The  fear  of  the  Lord,”  which  is  thus  both  the 
alpha  and  omega  of  the  spiritual  alphabet,  may  be 
taken  either  in  a  generic  or  a  specific  sense.  The 
former  is,  in  fact,  coextensive  with  the  general  idea 
of  religion  or  true  piety,  including,  either  directly  or 
by  necessary  inference,  every  right  disposition  and 
atfection  on  the  part  of  man,  as  a  dependent  and  un¬ 
worthy  creature,  towards  the  infinitely  great  and 
holy  God.  All  such  affections  may  be  readily  de¬ 
duced  from  fear,  in  its  S]3ecific  sense,  as  signifying  not 
a  slavish  but  a  filial  feeling,  not  mere  dread  or  terror, 
which,  from  its  very  nature,  must  be  always  tinged 
with  hate,  or  at  least  with  repugnance,  but  a  rever¬ 
ence  impregnated  with  love.  This  genuine  and  sj)u- 
rious  fear  of  God,  unlike  as  they  may  seem,  and  as 
they  are,  have  often  been  confounded,  on  account  of 
their  having  something  really  in  common,  to  wit,  a 
sense  of  God’s  power,  and  an  apprehension  of  his 
wrath  as  awaiting  all  transgressors  of  his  will.  But 
this  common  element,  which  justifies  the  use  of  the 
word  fear  in  reference  to  both  these  dispositions,  is 
blended  in  the  one  case  with  a  consciousness  of  aliena¬ 
tion  and  hostility,  while  in  the  other  it  is  lost,  as  it 
were,  in  the  feeling  of  attachment,  confidence,  and 
common  interest.  The  varying  proj)ortion,  in  which 
these  distinctive  qualities  are  blended  with  the  fun¬ 
damental  property  of  fear,  determines  the  facility  with 
which  a  filial  awe  may  be  confounded  with  a  slavish 
dread. 


2  KINGS  17,  33. 


163 


To  discriminate  between  the  two  might  sometimes 
be  impossible,  bnt  for  a  practical  criterion  or  test 
wldcli  the  Word  of  God  has  laid  down,  in  accordance 
with  our  Saviour’s  fundamental  rule  of  moral  dias:- 
nosis,  “  By  their  fruits  ye  shall  know  them.”  In  one 
of  the  passages  which  recognize  the  fear  of  the  Lord 
as  the  beginning  of  wisdom,  it  is  closely  connected 
with  obedience  to  his  will.  The  fear  of  the  Lord  is 
the  begimiing  of  wisdom  ;  a  good  understanding  have 
all  they  that  do  them,  i.  e.,  his  commandments.”  * 
“  Blessed  is  the  man  that  feareth  the  Lord,  that  de- 
lighteth  greatly  in  his  commandments.”  f 

This  intimate  comiection  between  genuine  fear 
and  obedience  is  recognized  in  the  law  itself,  when 
Moses  warns  Israel  ‘Go  do  all  the  words  of  this  law 
that  are  written  in  this  book,  that  thou  mayest  fear 
the  glorious  and  fearful  name.  The  Lord  thy  God.”  ^ 
The  negative  aspect  of  the  same  truth  is  exhibited  by 
Job,  when  he  winds  up  his  sublime  inquiry  after  wis¬ 
dom  with  the  solemn  declaration,  “  Behold,  the  fear 
of  the  Lord,  that  is  wisdom,  and  to  depart  from  evil 
is  understanding.”  §  Here  then  is  the  touchstone  of 
a  genuine  and  a  si)urious  fear  of  God.  The  one  dis¬ 
poses  us  to  do  his  will,  from  a  sincere  complacency 
and  acquiescence  in  it.  The  other  prompts  us  rather 
to  resist  it,  except  so  far  as  our  compliance  may  seem 
necessary  to  escape  his  wrath,  which  is  the  only  real 
object  of  this  slavish  dread.  The  one  is  a  fear  of 
punishment  as  the  consequence  of  sin ;  the  other  a 
fear  of  sin  itself,  as  intrinsically  evil,  or,  which 
amounts  to  the  same  thing,  as  opposed  to  the  will  of 

*  Psalm  111,  10.  f  Psalm  112,  1.  t  28,  68.  §  Job  28,  28. 


164 


SERMONS. 


God,  and  to  his  very  nature,  which  is  thus  assumed 
as  the  ultimate  criterion  of  right  and  wrong,  of  good 
and  evil.  Only  a  filial  fear  disposes  men  to  serve 
God.  Selfish  and  slavish  fear  disposes  them  to  fiee 
from  him.  This  uneasy  sense  of  insecurity  would  he 
relieved  and  gladdened  by  the  assurance  that  there 
is  no  God ;  whereas  the  same  assurance  would  be 
anguish  or  despair  to  the  aftectionate  and  reverential 
fear  of  the  believer.  These  two  things,  then,  are  to 
be  regarded  as  inseparable,  the  fear  of  God  and  ser¬ 
vice  of  God.  He  who  will  not  serve  God  does  not 
fear  him,  i.  e.^  in  any  good  sense  of  the  term.  His 
fear,  so  far  as  he  has  any,  is  a  slavish  fear  ;  and  slav¬ 
ish  fear  is  never  free  from  some  admixture  of  hostility. 

-  This  distinction,  however  obvious  as  it  is  in  Scrip¬ 
ture  and  familiar  in  experience,  is  not  practically  re¬ 
cognized  by  ^11  men.  There  seems  to  be  a  natural 
propensity  to  look  upon  fear,  blank  fear,  as  the  es¬ 
sence  of  devotion,  as  the  whole  of  what  is  due  to  God, 
the  rendering  of  which  absolves  from  all  obligation 
to  believe,  to  trust,  to  love,  or  to  obey.  Among  the 
heathen,  this  idea  of  religion  is  perhaps  predominant, 
or  certainly  far  more  prevalent  than  we  frequently 
imagine.  It  may  well  be  questioned  whether  their 
deities  are  ever  the  objects  of  their  love,  excepting  in 
those  cases  where  the  god  is  but  a  personification  of 
some  darling  lust.  Beyond  this  homage  rendered  to 
the  unchecked  sway  of  their  own  appetites  and  pas¬ 
sions,  there  is  strong  reason  for  believing  that  their 
devotion  is  nothing  but  the  tribute  of  their  fears  to  a 
superior  power  which  they  hate,  and  wdiich  they  look 
upon  as  hating  them.  The  service  rendered  under 


2  KINGS  17,  83. 


165 


tlie  influence  of  sucli  a  niotiye,  is  in  no  case  more 
than  they  regard  as  absolutely  necessary  to  secure 
them  from  the  wrath  of  the  offended  godhead.  If 
they  could  be  convinced  that  less  would  gain  their 
end,  they  would  joyfully  diminish  the  amount,  and 
still  more  joyfully  receive  permission  to  withhold  it 
altogether.  But  this  complete  immunity  is  rendered 
unattainable  by  conscience.  They  feel  that  they  are 
guilty,  i.  e.^  jastly  liable  to  punishment,  and  cannot 
rest  without  an  effort  to  escape  it. 

But  this  universal  and  unconquerable  sense  of 
guilt  may  coexist  with  an  indefinite  variety  of  no¬ 
tions  as  to  the  means  of  propitiation,  and  the  extent 
to  which  those  means  must  be  applied.  Some  men 
may  feel  it  to  be  necessary  to  expend  their  whole 
time  in  appeasing  the  divine  wrath  ;  but  by  far  the 
greater  number,  under  every  known  form  of  idolatry, 
consider  less  than  this  sufficient,  and  rejoice  to  appro¬ 
priate  the  residue  to  self-indulgence.  They  give  no 
more  than  is  extorted  by  their  fears,  and  have  no 
conception  of  religious  service  as  a  voluntary,  cheer¬ 
ful,  joyous  consecration  of  the  whole  man  to  an  object 
which  he  venerates  and  loves,  and  in  the  doing  of 
whose  will  he  finds  his  highest  happiness.  The  only 
service  of  this  free,  spontaneous,  and  absorbing  nature 
tliat  the  heathen  devotee  pays,  is  the  service  rendered 
to  himself,  in  the  indulgence  of  his  own  corrupt  de¬ 
sires.  He  gives  even  to  his  chosen  idol  only  what  he 
is  unable  to  withhold,  his  fears ;  and  by  so  doing 
proves  iiimself  a  stranger  to  all  genuine  religious  fear, 
which  cannot  be  divorced  from  the  willing  and  de¬ 
voted  service  of  its  object. 


166 


SERMONS. 


I  have  stated  tliis  as  a  grand  practical  error  of  tlie 
lieatlien,  in  order  that  we  may  be  able  to  jndge  of  it 
impartially,  and  not  at  all  because  it  is  confined  to 
them.  Of  men  in  general  it  may  be  affirmed,  that 
they  are  prone  to  separate  religions in  tlieir  con¬ 
ceptions  and  their  practice,  from  religions  service^  and 
by  that  separation  to  convert  the  former  into  a  slavish 
dread,  as  far  as  possible  removed  from  the  filial  rev¬ 
erential  fear  of  genuine  devotion.  Whether  the  prof¬ 
fered  object  of  their  worship  be  the  true  God  or  a 
false  one,  they  naturally  slide  into  this  error.  Hence 
it  is  that  the  majority  of  men  adore  their  god  or  their 
gods  with  a  divided  heart,  and  try  to  obey  two  mas¬ 
ters,  serving  whatever  they  love  best — the  world, 
their  fellow-creatures,  themselves  ;  fearing  whatever 
they  believe  can  punish  or  destroy  them,  which  for 
that  very  reason  they  consider  as  entitled,  not  so  much 
to  love  as  hatred.  Wherever  conscience  is  at  all 
awakened,  and  religious  means,  no  matter  what,  are 
used  to  pacify  it,  it  will  be  found  a  brief  but  just  de¬ 
scription  of  the  multitude  thus  infiuenced  ;  that  they 
fear  one  thing  and  serve  another.  To  the  judge  and 
the  avenger  they  give  what  they  must,  and  lavish  all 
the  rest  upon  themselves,  their  pride,  their  malice, 
their  ambition,  their  insatiable  appetites,  their  raging 
passions. 

An  apt  illustration  of  this  general  truth  is  afforded 
by  a  singular  and  interesting  passage  of  the  sacred 
history.  The  king  of  Assyria  had  carried  into  exile 
the  ten  tribes  of  Israel,  and  supplied  their  place  with 
settlers  from  his  own  dominions.  These  were  heathen, 
and  brought  with  them  their  own  idols  and  idolatrous 


2  KINGS  17,  S3. 


167 


rites.  Having  no  knowledge  of  Jekovah,  wliom  tlieir 
predecessors  had  professed  to  worship,  even  under  the 
forbidden  form  of  golden  calves,  they  had,  of  course, 
no  fear  of  his  displeasure,  till  he  sent  wild  beasts 
among  them,  and  slew  some  of  them.  Regarding  this 
correctly  as  a  penal  visitation  from  the  god  of  the 
land,  they  procured  from  their  own  sovereign  the  as¬ 
sistance  of  an  Israelitish  priest  to  teach  them  how  to 
worship  him.  He  accordingly  tanght  them,  as  the 
narrative  expresses  it,  “  how  they  should  fear  the 
Lord,”  and  they  acted  promptly  upon  his  instructions. 
They  took  care,  however,  to  provide  gods  of  their 
own,  each  tribe  or  nation  for  itself,  while  at  the  same 
time  they  otfered  to  Jehovah  a  worship  of  fear 
prompted  more  by  the  recollection  of  lions  than 
by  faith  or  reason.  So  they  eeaeed  the  Loed,  ahd 
SEEVED  THEiE  owH  GODS.”  How  far  the  sacred  writer 
was.  from  recognizing  this  as  any  genuine  religious 
i  fear  at  all,  we  learn  from  his  saying,  in  the  very  next 
sentence,  ‘‘  unto  this  day  they  do  after  the  former 
manners;  ‘^theyfeae  hot  the  Loed.”  Why?  Be¬ 
cause  they  feared  the  Lord,  and  served  tlieii’  own 
gods.” 

We  maybe  disposed  to  smile  with  some  contempt 
at  the  absurd  and  inconsistent  conduct  of  these 
wretched  ^lagans.  But  wherein  did  their  folly  and 
tlieir  sin  consist?  Certainly  not  in  being  afraid  of 
the  displeasure  of  Jehovah  and  in  seeking  to  avert  it; 
for  in  this  they  acted  wisely.  But  it  lay  in  their  im- 
,  aginiiig  that  forms  of  worsliip,  extorted  from  them  by 
I  their  selfisli  fears,  would  be  sufficient  to  propitiate 
I  the  Most  High  and  secure  them  from  his  vengeance ; 


168 


SERMONS. 


while  their  voluntary  service,  their  cordial  and  ha¬ 
bitual  devotion,  was  expended  on  his  enemies  and 
rivals.  If  this  is  the  absurdity  which  we  condemn, 
our  judgment  is  a  just  one ;  but  let  us  impartially  con¬ 
demn  it  wherever  we  may  find  it,  whether  in  ancient 
or  in  modern  times,  whether  in  eastern  or  in  western 
climes,  whether  in  heathendom  or  Christendom, 
whether  in  our  neighbors  or  ourselves. 

To  facilitate  this  self-denying  process  in  your  case 
and  my  own,  let  us  look  for  a  moment  at  some  ways 
in  which  precisely  the  same  folly,  and  with  incom¬ 
parably  less  extenuation,  may  be  practised  and  is 
practised  now  in  the  nineteenth  century,  and  here, 
amidst  the  blaze  of  gospel  light.  Let  us  not  shrink 
from  the  unwelcome  truth,  if  it  should  be  discovered 
that  this  race  of  idolaters  is  not  extinct ;  that  unto 
this  day  they  do  after  the  former  manners fearing 
the  Lord  and  serving  their  own  gods ;  “  as  did  their 
fathers,  so  do  they  unto  this  day.’’ 

To  make  the  transition  easier  from  the  heatiien  to 
the  Christian  world,  we  may  begin  with  our  own 
heathen,  the  heathen  at  our  own  doors,  in  our  own 
streets :  I  mean  those  who  approach  nearest  to  the 
heathen  both  in  the  positive  and  negative  circumstan¬ 
ces  of  their  spiritual  state,  their  ignorance  of  truth, 
and  their  enslavement  to  sin.  Look  at  the  worst  part 
of  yodr  population,  as  it  pours  its  turbid  streams  along 
in  times  of  more  than  usual  excitement ;  hear  its  mut¬ 
tered  or  vociferated  curses  ;  mark  the  bestial  character 
of  its  propensities  and  habits.  All  this  you  have  seen, 
and  as  you  saw  it,  you  liave  been  disposed  perhaps  to 
say  that  here,  at  least,  there  is  no  divided  worship  or 


2  KINGS  ir,  S3. 


169 


allegiance  ;  here,  at  least,  are  men  who  serve  their  own 
gods,  but  who  do  not,  even  in  profession,  fear  the 
Lord,  hlo,  in  profession,  certainly  not ;  in  form,  in 
purpose,  not  at  all ;  but  do  you  think  they  never  fear 
him,  i.  e.  feel  afraid  of  him  ?  Be  not  precipitate  in 
drawing  such  conclusions. 

In  the  vast  mixed  multitude  of  those  whom  you 
regard  as  the  most  ignorant  and  reckless  and  besotted 
of  your  countrymen,  observe,  on  some  occasion  of 
extraordinary  concourse,  how  many  haggard  faces, 
and  contracted  brows,  and  strangely  gleaming  eyes 
encounter  yours.  Do  you  believe  all  this  expression 
of  anxiety  and  dread  to  be  the  fruit  of  poverty,  or 
sickness,  or  domestic  cares  ?  If  so,  you  are  mistaken  ; 
for  the  same  expression  may  be  seen  in  those  who  are 
not  poor,  wdio  are  not  sick,  or  outwardly  distressed  at 
all ;  and  on  the  other  hand,  its  absence  may  be  marked 
in  thousands  who  are  poorer  and  who  suffer  more  from 
care  and  sickness  than  do  any  of  those  whom  you  are 
observing.  There  is  something  back  of  all  these 
causes  to  produce  this  uniformity  of  countenance,  and 
I  wdll  tell  3^ou  what  it  is — it  is  feak.  Yes,  even  the 
boldest  and  most  insolent  defier  of  all  outward  peril, 
the  foolhardiest  provoker  of  temptation  and  destruc¬ 
tion,  at  the  very  moment  when  he  is  repelling,  with  vin¬ 
dictive  rage,  the  charge  of  cowardice,  is  often  chilled 
with  fear,  unqualified,  unmitigated  fear  ;  and  that  of 
the  most  paralysing  kind,  because  it  is  a  vague  fear  and 
I  of  an  invisible  object — a  fear  which  is  written  in  the 
j  face  of  some  as  legibly  as  on  the  brow  of  the  first  mur- 
!  derer.  W  e  sometimes  speak  lightly  of  the  fear  of  ghosts 

and  phantoms  as  a  childish  folly ;  but  it  is  often  noth- 

VOL.  II. — 8 


170 


SERMONS. 


ing  more  than  a  disguised  fear  of  tlie  great  avenger ; 
the  man  shrinks  and  trembles  as  seeing  him  who  is  in¬ 
visible.  Tell  him  of  storms  and  earthquakes,  and  he 
shudders,  though  the  danger  be  distant  or  long  past. 
Tell  him  of  sudden  casualties,  and  he  turns  pale, 
though  the  same  form  of  accident,  in  his  case,  be  im¬ 
possible.  Tell  him  of  pestilence,  of  fever,  plague,  or 
cholera,  as  slowly,  steadily  approaching,  and  judge 
for  yourself  whether  the  emotion  caused  by  this  an¬ 
nouncement  can  be  all  referred  to  dread  of  bodily  suf¬ 
fering  or  even  of  death  as  a  physical  change  only. 
]^o,  his  thoughts  run  onward  to  the  dread  tribunal 
where  he  is  to  stand,  and  to  which  this  may  be  his 
summons.  What  he  now  feels  is  that  “  fearful  look¬ 
ing  for  of  judgment  and  fiery  indignation,’^  which  the 
apostle  represents  as  follov/ing  the  obstinate  rejection 
of  an  offered  Saviour.  I  do  not  mean  that  this  is 
always  present  to  the  mind ;  it  may  be  rare,  it  may 
be  momentary.  These  forebodings  may  but  occa¬ 
sionally  interrupt  the  ordinary  current  of  the  thoughts 
and  feelings,  like  a  dark  cloud  swept  across  the  sun, 
or  a  lurid  flash,  making  darkness  visible.  The  at¬ 
tempt  to  banish  such  reflections  may  be  commonly 
successful,  and  the  man,  instead  of  being  weaned  from 
his  accustomed  cares  or  pleasures,  may  plunge  into 
them  more  madly  and  more  desperately,  for  the  very 
reason  that  he  wishes  to  avoid  these  fearful  premo¬ 
nitions.  He  may  never  cross  the  threshold  of  a 
church — he  may  never  look  between  the  covers  of  a 
Bible — he  may  shrink  from  the  touch  of  a  religious 
book — he  may  run  from  the  presence  of  religious  men 
as  he  would  shun  contagion — but  he  has  that  within 


2  KINGS  17,  33. 


in 


him  which  he  cannot  flee  from  or  forever  silence ; 
he  is  gnilty  and  he  knows  it,  and  he  knows  that  God 
will  punish  sin,  and  that  his  own  time  may  be  near 
at  hand ;  and  often,  in  the  intervals  of  business,  or 
the  necessary  lulls  of  his  tempestuous  enjoyments,  in 
the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  or  on  a  sick-bed,  or 
when  some  affliction  forces  him  to  serious  reflection, 
he  hears  that  whisper  which  he  heard  in  childhood  ;  a 
mysterious  voice  syllables  his  name,  as  it  has  often 
done  before,  and  mutters  of  some  fearful  secret  soon 
to  be  disclosed,  kfay,  the  same  unwelcome  premoni¬ 
tion  sometimes  reaches  him  when  all  around  is  gay 
and  joyous,  in  the  very  moment  of  indulgence,  with 
the  cup  of  pleasure  at  his  lips,  he  hears  that  sound ; 
he  knows  not  whence  it  comes,  he  sometimes  even 
knows  not  what  it  says  ;  the  very  vagueness  of  the 
warning  makes  it  more  terrific.  Ilis  very  ignorance  of 
God  and  of  religion  adds  a  strange,  peculiar  terror  to 
these  pangs  of  conscience ;  and  the  man,  however 
brave  at  other  times,  is  really  afraid ;  he  fears,  he 
fears  the  Lord,  although  he  knows  him  not ;  he  fears 
him  as  the  unseen  and  anonymous  avenger  who  has 
followed  him  through  life,  and  now  aw^aits  his  death  ; 
and  if,  in  spite  of  all  this,  he  still  plunges  deeper  into 
worldly  cares  or  sensual  indulgence,  and  vainly  strives 
to  seek  oblivion  from  them,  this  only  shows  that,  like 
the  settlers  of  Samaria,  ho  fears  the  Lord  and  serves 
his  own  gods. 

The  case  of  which  I  have  been  speaking  is  the 
case  of  those  who  are  excluded,  or  exclude  them¬ 
selves  from  the  operation  of  all  ordinary  methods  ot 
religious  influence — who  are  not  permitted,  or  refuse 


172 


SERMONS. 


to  hear  the  gospel — who  avoid  association  with  its 
preachers  and  professors — and  who  lead  a  heathen 
life  on  Christian  ground.  Snch  may  well  be  likened 
to  the  foreign  idolaters  who  occupied  the  territory  of 
the  ten  tribes,  in  immediate  juxtaposition  with  the 
chosen  people  ;  and  in  snch  it  may  not  seem  surpris¬ 
ing  or  unnatural  that,  like  their  prototypes  in  his¬ 
tory,  they  should  fear  God  and  serve  the  Devil.  But 
is  such  a  compromise  or  combination  possible  within 
the  precincts  of  the  church  itself — within  the  bounds 
of  even  nominal  Christianity — among  the  decent  and 
respectful  hearers  of  the  gosjDel  and  professed  believers 
in  its  truth  ?  Can  they  be  charged  with  this  stupen¬ 
dous  folly  of  dividing  or  multiplying  what  they  wor¬ 
ship — giving  half  to  good  and  half  to  evil,  believing 
half  in  truth  and  half  in  falsehood,  living  half  in 
light  and  half  in  darkness  ?  Perhaps  the  very  form 
which  I  have  given  to  the  question,  may  suggest  an 
answer,  by  presenting  no  exaggerated  picture  of  the 
life  which  some  of  us  are  actually  living. 

You  fear  the  Lord  ;  you  are  unwilling  to  provoke 
his  anger ;  you  acknowledge  yoitr  obligation  to  serve 
him,  and  you  discharge  that  obligation  by  attending 
on  his  worship ;  but  is  he  the  master  that  you  daily 
serve  ?  Where  is  your  treasure  and  your  heart  ?  By 
whose  will  do  you  regulate  your  life  ?  A  man  may  so 
far  fear  the  Lord  as  to  frequent  Ilis  house,  and  join  in 
the  external  acts  of  worship  there;  but  what  if  he  has 
other  gods  at  home,  and  there  bows  down  to  Mammon 
or  to  Belial  ?  What  if  the  world  is  in  his  heart,  and 
the  prince  of  this  world  on  the  throne  of  his  affec¬ 
tions?  Will  the  stain  of  these  habitual  idolatries  be 


2  KINGS  ir,  33. 


1Y3 


washed  out  by  patiently  enduring  the  penance  of  a 
Sabbath  service  ?  Will  the  Lord,  who  is  thus  feared 
with  a  slavish  dread  of  his  displeasure,  be  contented, 
for  the  sake  of  this,  to  pass  by  all  the  rest — all  that  is 
done,  or  all  that  is  not  done,  in  defiance  of  his  abso¬ 
lute  authority  and  positive  command  ?  My  hearers  ! 
let  us  not  deceive  ourselves.  There  are  idol-temples 
sometimes  reared  against  the  very  walls  of  Jehovah’s 
sanctuary.  There  are  heathen  oracles  which  give 
forth  their  responses  fiist  by  the  oracle  of  God.” 
There  are  those  who  seem  to  fear  the  Lord  on  one  day 
in  the  week,  but  during  all  the  rest  of  their  existence 
are  unceasingly  employed*  in  serving  their  own  gods. 

The  charge  which  is  here  brought  is  not  one  of 
hypocrisy.  It  is  one  of  delusion.  I  do  not  say  that 
those  of  whom  I  speak  pretend  to  fear  the  Lord  when 
they  know  they  fear  him  not.  I  say  that  they  believe 
they  fear  him,  when  in  fact  they  fear  him  not.  Or 
rather,  which  is  really  the  same  thing  in  another  form, 
they  do  fear  him ;  but  it  is  not  with  a  fear  which 
honours,  or  conciliates,  or  pleases  him,  as  they  im¬ 
agine  ;  and  here,  just  here,  is  their  delusion.  They 
are  sincere  enough  in  thinking  that  they  fear  God ; 
but  they  are  terribly  mistaken  in  supposing  that  they 
fear  him  as  they  ought.  This  is  a  painful  truth  to 
those  of  us  whom  it  concerns ;  but  it  is  one  which, 
sooner  or  later,  must  be  told.  And  it  requires  not 
many  words  to  tell  it.  It  may  be  summed  up  in  this 
short  sentence  :  If  you  do  not  serve  the  Lord,  you  do 
not  fear  him.  You  may  attend  upon  his  worship, 
you  may  respect  religion,  you  may  believe  the  Bible 
to  be  true,  you  may  hope  to  be  saved  tiirough  Christ, 
you  may  expect  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous. 


174 


SERMONS. 


But  how  do  you  live  ?  How  are  you  living  now '? 
From  what  source  is  your  present  happiness  derived  ? 
What  influence  do  you  exert  ?  What  are  you  doing, 
not  as  a  weekly  recreation,  or  a  mere  periodical  so¬ 
lemnity,  hut  as  a  daily  business,  for  the  honour  of 
God  and  the  good  of  your  fellow-men  ?  If  your  fear 
of  the  Lord  shows  itself  in  these  particulars,  and 
in  the  constant  dis]30sitions  and  aflections  of  your 
mind,  it  may  be  genuine.  But  if  you  fear  God  only 
in  the  church,  or  only  on  the  sabbath  ;  if  your  life, 
beyond  these  bounds,  is  atheistical ;  i.  e.,  if  you  live 
precisely  as  you  would  if  you  believed  that  there  is 
no  God ;  if  your  fear  of  him  is  nothing  but  a  natural 
unwillingness  to  suffer  at  his  hands,  and  a  consequent 
desire  to  avert  his  wrath ;  if  you  joyfully  redeem  from 
his  service  what  you  can,  to  be  expended  on  the 
world  ;  if  you  come  before  him  reeking  from  the  sor¬ 
did  cares  or  frivolous  pleasures  of  a  selflsh  and  un- 
profltable  life,  and  then  leap  back  from  the  threshold 
of  his  presence  into  the  hot  and  steaming  atmos]3here 
of  that  same  world  from  which  your  fears  had  de¬ 
tached  you  for  an  hour  or  a  day ; — if  this  is  your  ex¬ 
perience,  or  any  thing  like  this,  however  clear  it  may 
be  to  your  own  mind  that  you  fear  the  Lord,  it  is  still 
more  clear  to  others  that  you  serve  your  own  gods. 
Is  not  this  an  object  of  compassion?  Has  this 
delusion  no  share  in  the  pity  which  we  lavish  on 
the  heathen?  Yes,  to  those  really  enlightened  there 
is  something  peculiarly  pitiable  in  the  state  which 
I  have  been  describing.  The  degree  of  knowledge 
really  possessed,  and  the  hopes  so  fondly  cherished, 
only  render  their  inevitable  disappointment  more 


2  KINGS  ir,  33. 


175 


affecting  to  tlie  heart  of  one  who  can  foresee  it. 
Looking  out  from  the  inner  sanctuary  into  which  he 
has  found  access  by  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  cov¬ 
enant,  he  compassionates  not  only  those  who  still 
wander  in  the  court  of  the  Gentiles,  but  those  who 
have  penetrated  into  the  interior  enclosure,  within  sight 
of  the  laver  and  the  altar  of  atonement,  or  have  even 
found  their  way  into  the  holy  place,  and  there  con¬ 
tinue,  unsuspicious  that  the  holiest  of  all  is  still  be¬ 
yond  them,  that  the  mercy  seat  is  not  yet  reached, 
and  that,  without  this,  neither  the  loaves  spread  upon 
the  golden  table,  the  light  that  streams  from  the 
golden  candlestick,  nor  the  incense  that  rolls  upward 
from  the  golden  altar,  can  be  theirs,  or  made  availa¬ 
ble  for  them  ;  that  notwithstanding  their  near  bodily 
approach  to  God,  they  are  still  far  from  him ; — over 
such  a  sight  the  true  penitent  might  weep  even  in  the 
presence  of  the  ark  and  under  the  shadowing  pinions 
of  the  cherubim.  Esj^ecially  might  this  be  the  effect 
if  these  deluding  worshippers  were  seen  leaving  their 
idols  at  the  entrance  of  the  temple,  and  casting  many 
a  fond  backward  glance  at  these  beloved  objects  from 
the  holy  place,  or  even  bringing  them  in,  half  con¬ 
cealed,  beneath  some  flimsy  pretext,  or  some  fair  ap¬ 
pearance,  and  then  hastening  forth  to  worship  them  ; 

!  yes,  scarcely  waiting  till  the  veil  has  again  fallen  on 
the  sacred  scene,  before  they  drop  down  in  the  dust 
before  the  gods  of  their  idolatry.  This,  this  is  a  spec¬ 
tacle  to  draw  tears  at  the  very  mercy-seat  and  under 
the  cloud  of  the  divine  presence.  But,  sad  as  is 
this,  would  to  God  it  were  the  worst!  It  were 
surely  enough  that  we,  who  profess  to  have  found 


176 


SEEMONS. 


access  to  tlie  mercy-seat,  should  be  compelled  to 
sorrow  over  those  who,  though  externally  almost  as 
near  it  as  ourselves,  are  still,  in  heart,  as  far  from  it 
as  ever,  and  who  serve  their  own  gods  in  the  presence 
of  Jehovah.  But  what  if  our  lamentations  should  be 
interrupted  by  a  voice  from  the  holy  of  holies,  saying, 
“The  time  is  come  that  judgment  must  begin  at  the 
house  of  God  !  ”  What  if  the  cloud  should  rise  or 
open,  and  disclose  to  us  the  fearful  sight  of  idols  in 
immediate  contact  with  the  ark  of  the  covenant  and 
the  mercy-seat  itself! 

This  is  no  hideous  imagination  of  a  wild  impossi¬ 
bility.  The  thing  supposed  is  not  impossible  at  all. 
It  is  a  palpable  reality.  It  has  been,  is  now,  and  will 
be  hereafter,  until  human  corruption  ceases  to  exist, 
or  is  no  longer  sutfered  to  exert  an  influence  on  true 
believers.  False  gods  may  be  brought  into  the  holy 
of  holies.  I  speak  not  now  of  false  profession,  or  of 
total  self-deception,  but  of  those  who  give  evidence  of 
having  really  passed  from  death  unto  life.  Even  these 
may  cling  to  idols ;  even  these  may  give  themselves 
to  other  masters ;  even  these  may  fear  the  Lord  and 
serve  their  own  gods ;  and  in  so  doing,  I  should  hesi¬ 
tate  to  intend  the  possibility  of  Christians,  even  by 
profession,  being  tainted  with  the  2)oison  of  a  literal 
idolatry,  did  not  notorious  contemporary  facts  demon¬ 
strate  the  existence  of  this  monstrous  combination. 
In  proof  of  this,  we  need  not  go  to  India,  and  contem¬ 
plate  the  connivance  of  a  Christian  government  at 
heathenish  abominations,  and  its  violation  of  the  rights 
of  Christian  consciences,  in  order  to  maintain  those  of 

*  1  Peter  4,  lY. 


2  KINGS  17,  83. 


ITT 


a  heathen  population,  which  it  ought  to  have  enlight¬ 
ened  in  the  knowledge  of  the  truth.  We  need  not 
join  in  the  censure  which  the  world  has  passed  upon 
these  false  concessions,  or  attempt  to  trace  the  marks 
of  the  divine  displeasure  in  the  blood  and  ashes  of 
that  great  catastrophe,  the  sound  of  which  has  not  yet 
died  away  in  Euro2ie,  Asia,  or  America ;  because,  ad¬ 
mitting  all  that  is  alleged,  or  even  all  that  is  confer¬ 
red,  and  rating  at  the  highest  mark  the  guilt  of  such 
connivance  or  encouragement,  it  cannot,  after  all,  be 
justly  charged  with  actual  participation  in  the  idola 
try  itself,  but  only  with  a  sinful  and  pernicious  tolera¬ 
tion  of  it,  on  the  part  of  those  who  really  despised  or 
jiitied  it,  as  the  wretched  but  incurable  delusion  of  a 
half-enlightened  and  inferior  race.  But  what  shall 
we  say  of  those  who,  nearer  home,  and  in  a  Christian 
country,  and  amidst  the  light  of  a  reformed  and  puri¬ 
fied  religion — nay,  perha2)S  with  the  profession  of  it 
on  their  lij^s  and  on  their  conscience,  can  sanction  by 
their  jDresence,  or  sustain  by  their  pecuniary  gifts,  a 
worship)  which,  though  nominally  Christian,  they  con¬ 
fess  to  be  idolatrous — crowding  its  sanctuaries  even 
with  their  children,  led,  perhaps,  by  simple  curiosity, 
but  strengthening  the  faith  of  others  by  example,  and 
themselves  incurring  the  tremendous  risk  of  learning 
first  to  tolerate,  and  then  to  admire,  and  finally  to 
worship  what  at  first  they  viewed  with  wonder  and 
contempt.  Be  not  surprised,  my  brethren,  if  you 
should  encounter  such  phenomena  in  yonr  fields  of 
ministerial  labour ;  and  if  you  do,  be  not  afraid  to 
tell  those  who  exhibit  them,  that  such  compliances,  so 
far  from  being  justified  by  simultaneous  or  alternate 
voi.  II. — 8* 


178 


SERMONS. 


acts  of  purer  worship,  or  by  the  continual  profession 
of  a  purer  faith,  are  thereby  only  brought  into  a  closer 
and  more  hideous  assimilation  to  the  mixed  religion 
of  these  ancient  settlers  in  the  land  of  Israel,  who,  in 
that  consecrated  soil,  and  not  far  from  the  temple  of 
Jehovah,  almost  in  sight  of  its  majestic  rites,  and 
within  hearing  of  its  solemn  music,  while  they  owned 
the  true  God  as  a  God  of  judgment,  and  experienced 
his  wrath  as  an  avenger — were  so  mad  upon  their 
idols,  that  with  fatal  inconsistency  they  feared  the 
Lord,  and  served  their  own  gods.” 

But,  returning  to  the  figurative  spiritual  meaning 
of  idolatry,  with  which  we  are  immediately  concerned, 
and  to  its  fearful  combination  with  the  worship  of  the 
true  God,  which  I  have  described  as  introducing  idols 
into  the  most  holy  place — as  a  complete  enumeration 
of  these  idols  would  be  neither  possible  nor  needful, 
let  me  sum  up  a  vast  number  of  them  under  the  col¬ 
lective  name,  so  often  used  in  Scripture,  of  the  world 
— the  world,  including  all  the  various  and  complex 
influences  exercised  by  men,  not  only  as  detached  in¬ 
dividuals,  but  as  an  aggregate  body,  called  society — 
the  various  allurements  by  which  true  Christians  are  se¬ 
duced  into  compliance  with  its  questionable  practices. 
It  may  be  under  the  pretence  or  in  the  hope  of  doing 
good,  without  experiencing  evil — the  oldest  and  most 
specious  of  the  arts  by  which  f he  tempter  has  achieved 
his  conquests,  since  he  whispered  in  the  ear  of  Eve, 
“  Ye  shall  be  as  gods,  knowing  good  and  evil,”  and 
displayed  to  her  the  fatal  tree  so  “  good  for  food,”  so 
‘‘  pleasant  to  the  eyes,”  and  so  “  desirable  to  make  one 
wise.”  Here  is  an  idol  temple — vast,  magnificent,  in- 


2  KINGS  17,  33. 


179 


viting,  at  tlie  very  thresliold  of  oiir  churclies, — ^nay, 
out  of  which  idols  are  continually  brought  into  Jeho¬ 
vah’s  presence,  not  by  false  professors  merely,  but  by 
deluded  worshippers,  who  fain  would  fear  the  Lord, 
and  worship  their  own  gods. 

But  what  are  the  gods  which  may  thus  be  served 
by  those  who,  at  the  same  time,  seem  to  fear  the 
Lord  ?  Leaving  wholly  out  of  view,  as  I  have  said, 
the  case  of  those  who  worship  self  and  the  world,  un¬ 
der  the  mask  of  hypocritical  profession,  or  the  fatal 
spell  of  strong  delusions,”  let  us  look  exclusively  at 
those  who  seem  sincerely  to  fear  God,  but  who  do 
not  serve  him  with  a  perfect  heart,  because  their  affec¬ 
tions  are  divided  and  seduced  by  idols.  What  are 
these  idols  ?  I  might  almost  say,  their  name  is  Le¬ 
gion.  I  can  mention  but  a  few  of  them.  But  leaving 
these  and  other  more  familiar  forms  of  this  idolatrous 
delusion,  let  us  glance  at  some  less  palpable,  and 
more  compatible  with  light  and  even  genuine  profes¬ 
sion.  Such  is  the  idol  of  self-righteousness,  a  very 
different  thing  from  self-indulgence.  While  the  lat¬ 
ter  owns  no  obligation  to  obey  any  other  master  than 
its  own  imperious  lusts,  the  other  recognizes  God’s 
authority,  consents  to  do  his  will,  and  thinks  it  does 
it — yes,  and  makes  a  merit  of  it.  Its  very  reliance, 
or  professed  reliance,  on  the  merit  of  the  Saviour,  is 
transformed  into  an  idol,  and  usurps  the  honour  due 
exclusively  to  Christ.  It  submits  to  the  righteousness 
of  God  in  order  to  exalt  its  own.  Of  such  it  may  be 
said,  without  injustice,  that  they  fear  the  Lord,  and 
serve  their  own  gods. 

Closely  allied  to  this  idol  is  another — the  idol  of 


180 


SERMONS. 


spiritual  pride — a  disposition  to  exult  in  the  extent 
and  depth  of  our  religious  experience,  and  in  the  va¬ 
riety  of  our  attainments,  a  complacent  estimate  of  our 
own  love  to  God,  a  zeal  for  his  honour,  and  submis¬ 
sion  to  his  will,  as  meritorious  achievements  of  our 
own,  and  not  as  the  gratuitous  products  of  his  sover¬ 
eign  grace.  Alas !  how  many  sincere  Christians  are 
led  far  astray  by  this  insidious  seducer,  till  at  last 
they  seem  to  fear  the  Lord  still,  but  to  serve  their  own 
gods. 

To  the  same  race  and  famil}^  of  idols  belongs  that 
Pharisaical  censorious  spirit  Avhich  regards  the  es¬ 
sence  of  religion  as  consisting  in  vindictive  opposition 
to  the  sins  of  our  fellow-men,  and  imagines  that  the 
surest  way  to  rise  in  the  divine  life  is  to  lower  our 
neighbours,  whether  saints  or  sinners,  drawing  a  mor¬ 
bid  satisfaction  from  this  painful  view  of  others  as  no 
better  than  ourselves,  and  expending  on  this  object 
the  attention  which  might  better  have  been  given  to 
our  own  defects,  or  better  still,  to  the  desire  and  pur¬ 
suit  of  excellence.  This,  too,  is  to  fear  the  Lord  and 
serve  our  own  gods. 

Further  enumeration  is  superfluous.  It  is  enough 
to  know  the  general  fact  that  such  things  are  possible, 
are  real.  If  we  do  know  it,  and  acknowledge  it,  what 
shall  we  do  next?  Let  judgment  begin  at  the  house 
of  God.  Let  every  image  which  defiles  it  be  cast 
down  without  mercy  from  its  pedestal  and  dashed  in 
pieces,  like  Dagon  on  the  threshold  of  his  temple. 
Let  us,  like  Jacob  and  his  household,  put  away  our 
false  gods,  before  we  come  to  Bethel  to  renew  our 
vows.  Instead  of  weeping  over  the  delusions  of  our 


2  KINGS  ir,  33. 


181 


neiglibours,  let  us  first  seek  to  have  our  own  dispelled. 
Let  those  vlio  gaze  from  without  into  the  temple  of 
the  Lord,  or  from  its  holy  place  into  the  holiest  of  all, 
be  under  no  mistake,  or  even  doubt,  as  to  the  object 
of  our  worship.  Through  the  cloud  of  incense  which 
ascends  from  our  altar,  let  not  even  the  unfriendly  or 
malignant  eye  detect  the  semblance  of  an  idol  placed 
above  it.  Let  friends  and  enemies  alike  be  constrained 
to  acknowledge  that  our  Lord  is  one  Lord,  and  that 
we  his  people  have  no  other  gods  before  him.  Then, 
with  our  consciences  cleared  from  dead  works,  to 
serve  the  living  God,  we  shall  be  able,  with  con¬ 
sistency  and  good  hope  of  success,  to  say  to  those  who 
hear  the  gospel  wuth  us,  but  have  not  yet  avouched 
tlie  Lord  to  be  their  God — Forsake  your  idols,  crucify 
the  flesh,. die  to  the  world,  serve  him  whom  you  fear 
already,  fear  him  no  longer  with  a  slavish  dread,  but 
with  a  filial  reverence,  believe  in  him  whom  we  trust 
as  our  Saviour — “Walk  about  Zion,  and  go  round 
about  her :  tell  the  towers  thereof,  mark  ye  well  her 
bulwarks,  consider  her  palaces,  that  ye  may  tell  it  to 
the  generation  following ;  for  this  God  is  our  God 
forever  and  ever :  he  will  be  our  guide  even  unto 
death.”  Yes,  and  then  with  this  accession  to  our 
strength,  we  may  go  forth  beyond  the  precincts  of  the 
sanctuary  into  the  highways  and  the  hedges  of  the 
world,  in  search  of  those  neglected  and  bewildered 
outcasts  who  are  trembling  at  the  presence  of  an  un¬ 
known  God,  who  have  fearful  forebodings  of  his  wrath, 
with  no  cheering  anticipations  of  his  mercy,  fearing 
the  Lord,  and  serving  their  own  gods.  Yes,  even 
these  may  be  compelled  to  come  in,  to  join  the  pro- 


182 


SERMONS. 


cession  of  experienced  saints  and  recent  converts  from 
the  world,  as  it  draws  near  to  the  footstool  of  God’s 
mercy,  and  pointing  to  the  fragments  of  forsaken 
idols  which  lie  strewn  aronnd  it,  say,  O  Lord  our 
God,  other  lords  beside  thee  have  had  dominion  over 
us ;  but  by  thee  only  will  we  make  mention  of  thy 
name.  They  are  dead,  they  shall  not  live ;  they  are 
deceased,  they  shall  not  rise ;  thou  hast  visited  and 
destroyed  them,  and  made  all  their  memory  to  perish.” 


X. 


Philippians  4,  13. — I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ  which 
Btrengtheneth  me. 


Chkist  is  revealed  to  us  in  various  characters ; 
that  is  to  say,  the  relation  he  sustains  to  his  own  peo¬ 
ple  is  presented  under  various  figures.  Sometimes  he 
is  represented  as  their  redeemer,  who  sets  them  free 
from  bondage ;  sometimes  as  their  prophet,  who  in¬ 
structs  them ;  sometimes  as  their  king,  who  protects 
and  governs  them;  sometimes  as  their  priest,  who 
makes  atonement  for  them ;  sometimes  as  the  sacri¬ 
fice  itself,  which  is  offered  for  them ;  sometimes  as 
their  friend,  sometimes  as  their  physician,  sometimes 
as  their  provider,  sometimes  as  their  strengthener. 
It  is  in  this  last  character  that  he  is  presented  by  the 
text,  which  may  be  considered  as  exjiressing  not  only 
the  personal  experience  of  Paul,  but  of  all  who  are 
partakers  of  the  “  like  precious  faith.”  In  this  char¬ 
acter  it  well  becomes  us  to  contemplate  Christ.  We 
all  need  strength ;  we  all  need  one  to  strengthen  us. 
Whether  conscious  or  unconscious  of  our  weakness, 
we  are  weak.  Our  very  strength  is  weakness.  We 


184: 


SERMONS. 


may  trust  it,  but  the  more  we  trust  it,  tlie  more  com¬ 
pletely  shall  we  be  deceived.  This  is  a  defect  which 
no  effort  of  our  own  can  supply.  "We  have  not  strength 
enough  to  be  strong.  The  exertion  of  weakness  can¬ 
not  produce  strength.  Imbecility,  nay,  impotence,  in 
spiritual  matters,  is  a  part  of  our  hereditary  curse. 
We  must  look  out  of  ourselves  for  its  removal.  And 
to  save  us  from  a  vain  search  in  forbidden  and  unsat¬ 
isfying  quarters,  the  word  of  God  sets  Christ  at  once 
before  us  as  our  strength,  our  strengthener.  What  Paul 
says,  every  true  believer,  in  his  measure,  has  a  right, 
and  is  disposed,  to  say :  I  can  do  all  things  through 
Christ  enabling  me.  Of  myself  I  can  do  nothing  ;  but 
through  Christ  I  can  do  all  things,  all  that  is  obliga¬ 
tory,  all  that  is  necessary,  either  for  my  own  safety, 
for  the  good  of  others,  or  for  the  honour  of  Christ 
himself. 

In  further  considering  this  gracious  aspect  of  our 
Saviour’s  character  and  work,  as  a  source  of  spiritual 
strength  to  those  who  have  no  strength  in  themselves, 
it  may  be  conducive  to  the  clearness  and  distinctness  of 
our  views,  if  we  inquire  (1)  how  he  strengthens  us,  and 
(2)  for  what  he  strengthens  us,  i.  in  what  particu¬ 
lar  emergencies,  or  in  reference  to  what  specific 
objects. 

First,  then,  in  what  way,  and  by  what  means, 
does  Christ  strengthen  us  ?  I  answer,  negatively,  not 
by  miracle  or  magic,  not  by  acting  on  us  without  our 
knowledge  or  against  our  will,  but  through  our  own 
intelligent  and  active  powers.  I  answer  positively, 
and  particularly,  in  the  first  place,  that  he  strengthens 
by  instructing  us,  enlightening  our  minds  in  the 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


185 


knowledge  of  himself  and  of  ourselves,  and  especially 
by  making  us  to  feel  our  weakness  and  to  understand 
its  causes.  He  shows  us  that  it  is  a  moral  weakness, 
and  connected  with  a  universal  moral  depravation, 
involving  all  our  powers  and  affections,  from  the  su¬ 
preme  control  of  which  the  Christian  is  delivered,  but 
not  from  its  entire  influence.  He  shows  us  our  de¬ 
pendence  on  God’s  mercy  for  relief  from  this  debili¬ 
tated  helpless  state,  and  teaches  us  to  seek  it  in  him¬ 
self.  Thus  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  as  our  prophet,  or 
infallible  instructor,  strengthens  us. 

Again,  he  strengthens  us  by  his  example.  It  is 
not  by  precept  or  by  doctrine  merely,  that  he  works 
this  necessary  change  upon  us.  He  has  not  merely 
told  us  what  is  right.  He  has  shown  us  how  to  do  it. 
He  has  done  it  himself.  He  has  embodied  in  his  own 
life  what  might  have  been  inoperative  if  set  forth  ' 
only  in  theory.  This  is  one  of  the  unspeakable  ad¬ 
vantages  arising  from  our  Saviour’s  incarnation,  the 
community  of  nature  wdiicli  exists  between  us.  He 
has  set  us  an  example ;  he  has  gone  before  us.  When 
we  hesitate,  or  go  astray,  or  stumble,  we  not  only 
hear  his  voice  behind  us,  saying.  This  is  the  way, 
walk  ye  in  it,  but  we  see  his  form  before  us,  some¬ 
times  nearer,  sometimes  further,  sometimes  more,  and 
sometimes  less  distinct,  according  to  the  keenness  of 
our  vision,  and  the  clearness  of  our  spiritual  atmos¬ 
phere.  But  even  wdien  our  eyes  are  dimmest,  and 
our  heavens  are  haziest,  if  we  are  believers,  we  can 
still  see  something.  Through  the  mist,  and  smoke, 
and  dust,  and  over  or  between  a  thousand  intervening 
objects,  we  can  still  discern  a  form,  like  that  of  the 


186 


SERMONS. 


Son  of  man,  not  merely  pointing  out  the  path,  but 
often  breaking  it,  clearing  away  obstructions,  opening 
unexpected  passages,  surmounting  obstacles,  trans¬ 
forming  difficulties  into  helps,  levelling  mountains, 
filling  up  valleys,  bridging  streams  that  seemed  im¬ 
passable.  Oh,  what  a  blessed  work  is  this  in  which 
the  Son  of  God  condescends  to  be  employed  for  our 
advantage.  How  can  our  hopes  sink,  or  our  fears 
prevail,  while  this  forerunner  is  in  sight ;  and  even 
when  he  ceases  to  be  visible,  because  we  fall  so  far 
behind,  or  drop  upon  the  earth  exhausted,  we  can 
still  trace  his  footsteps  where  we  lie,  and  sometimes 
track  him  by  the  tears  and  blood  with  which  the  path 
is  moistened.  At  the  sight  of  these,  the  fainting 
Christian  often  breathes  afresh,  recovers  new  strength, 
and  starts  up  to  resume  his  painful  journey,  willing 
even  to  take  up  his  cross  in  imitation  of  his  Master, 
who  has  left  us  an  example  tliat  we  should  follow  his 
steps.  Brethren,  Christ  strengthens  us  by  his  ex¬ 
ample. 

But  precept  and  example  are  not  all.  We  might 
have  these  in  perfection,  and  lie  motionless.  There 
must  be  something  to  excite  and  prompt,  as  well  as 
guide.  We  may  hear  Christ’s  precepts,  and  yet  not 
obey  them.  We  may  see  his  example,  and  yet  not 
follow  it.  With  both  in  full  view,  we  may  still  be 
impotent  to  spiritual  good,  unless  some  new  spring  of  | 
activity  be  set  at  work  within  us,  just  as  a  machine  : 
may  be  complete  and  well  adjusted,  yet  without  effect 
or  use  until  the  moving  power  is  applied.  But  when  ; 
it  is  applied,  when  all  is  set  in  motion,  how  distinctly  ' 
do  the  parts  perform  their  office  and  harmoniously 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


187 


contribute  to  the  aggregate  result !  In  one  particu¬ 
lar,  this  illustration  does  not  hold  good.  We  are  not 
machines,  propelled  by  an  external  force,  without  a 
conscious  co-operation  on  our  own  part.  We  are  ac¬ 
tive  and  spontaneous  in  our  spiritual  exercises ;  but 
we  have  no  such  exercises  until  set  in  motion.  If  we 
can  imagine  a  machine  composed  of  living,  conscious 
parts,  but  perfectly  inert,  till  started  by  an  impulse  from 
without,  and  then  performing  its  appointed  functions 
with  entire  precision,  we  may  have  an  idea  of  our  spir¬ 
itual  state.  Or,  to  drop  the  questionable  figure  of  ma¬ 
chinery,  imagine  that  you  see  a  living  man,  set  down 
to  the  performance  of  a  given  task,  wdth  his  materials, 
his  instructions,  and  his  models,  all  before  him,  but 
completely  paralyzed,  unable  to  move  hand  or  foot. 
He  is  a  man ;  he  is  a  living  man  ;  he  knows,  he  un¬ 
derstands,  the  work  before  him,  and  he  has  within  his 
reach  whatever  is  required  for  the  doing  of  it ;  yet  he 
neither  does  nor  can  perform  it.  That  paralysis  as 
utterly  prevents  it  as  if  he  were  dead  or  absent.  But 
suppose  that  fatal  spell  to  be  dissolved  by  skill,  or 
chance,  or  magic,  or  a  sudden  divine  interposition, 
and  see  how  instantaneously  the  mind  and  body  move 
in  concert,  how  they  act  and  react  upon  each  other, 
till  their  joint  exertion  has  accomplished  in  an  hour 
what  before  seemed  likely  to  remain  undone  forever. 
Such  is  our  condition,  even  after  we  are  taught,  both 
by  precept  and  example.  We  are  still  not  strong  to 
any  practical  effect,  until  we  are  constrained  to  move 
by  some  new  principle  of  action.  And  such  a  princi¬ 
ple  is  actually  set  at  work  in  every  renewed  heart. 
“The  love  of  Christ  constraineth  us.’’  If  love  be 


188 


SERMONS. 


wanting,  all  is  lost ;  we  can  do  nothing  ;  we  are  praC' 
ticall}^  just  as  weak  as  ever.  But  let  the  love  of  God 
he  shed  abroad  in  oiir  hearts,  and  all  the  knowledge 
and  the  motives  which  had  long  lain  as  an  inert,  life¬ 
less  mass,  begin  to  move,  and  in  the  right  direction. 
All  the  powers  and  affections  are  aroused,  and  at 
the  same  time  checked  and  regulated.  "What  seemed 
impossible,  is  now  felt  to  be  easy.  He  who  once 
could  do  nothing,  is  now  able  to  “  do  all  things.” 
Brethren,  the  power  of  Christ  strengthens  us,  when 
the  love  of  Christ  constrains  us. 

Again  :  Christ  strengthens  us  by  working  faith  in 
us,  and  by  making  himself  known  to  us,  as  the  obj  ect 
of  that  faith.  In  this  life  the  most  favoured  have  to 
walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight.  Christ  is  to  all  of 
us  an  unseen  Saviour.  His  word  and  his  example  are 
indeed  before  us.  But  the  reason  and  the  purpose  of 
his  requisitions  and  his  dealings  with  us  may  be 
wholly  unaccountable.  We  admit  our  obligation  to 
obey  him,  and  to  follow  him  through  evil  and  through 
good  report.  But  when  our  minds  are  filled  with 
doubt  and  wonder  as  to  the  reality,  or  meaning,  or 
intent  of  his  commands,  how  can  we  energetically  do 
them  ?  Such  a  state  of  mind  necessarily  j)roduces 
weakness.  We  delay,  we  vacillate,  we  stop  short, 
we  begin  afresh,  until  our  strength  and  patience  are 
expended.  And  as  we  cannot  hope  to  see  these  diffi¬ 
culties  all  removed  at  present,  we  can  only  become 
strong  by  trusting,  by  confiding,  by  believing  what 
we  do  not  see,  by  looking  forward  to  what  is  not  yet 
revealed.  How  “faith  is  the  substance  of  things 
hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen.” 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


189 


Faitli  therefore  strengthens.  To  be  strong,  we  must 
believe,  confide,  and  trust.  The  reason  of  this  fact 
is  obvious.  If  we  wait  until  we  see  and  comprehend 
the  solution  of  all  difficulties,  we  shall  never  begin  to 
act,  and  such  inaction  is,  of  course,  a  state  of  weak¬ 
ness.  If  we  refuse  to  take  any  thing  for  granted,  or 
to  receive  any  thing  on  trust,  prompt  and  energetic 
action  is  impossible.  The  emergencies  requiring  it 
will  pass  away  before  we  have  put  ourselves  in  mo¬ 
tion.  The  corrective  of  this  weakness  is  a  well-placed 
trust  in  something  out  of  ourselves.  A  blind  ca¬ 
pricious  trust  is  worse  than  weakness ;  but  a  firm 
trust  in  something  or  some  person  that  deserves  it,  is 
a  source,  a  never-failing  source  of  strength. 

How  Christ  permits  us,  and  invites  us,  and  enables 
us  to  trust  in  him.  And  what  can  be  a  more  secure 
foundation  upon  which  to  build  ?  His  almighty  power, 
his  omniscience,  the  perfection  of  his  wisdom,  truth, 
and  goodness,  and  tlie  infinite  merit  of  his  saving  work, 
all  warrant  an  implicit  and  unwavering  trust.  Re¬ 
lying  upon  him,  we  may  dismiss  our  doubts  and  fears, 
collect  our  wandering  and  distracted  thoughts,  con¬ 
centrate  all  our  energies  on  present  duties,  and  do 
wonders  of  obedience,  encouraged  by  the  testimony 
and  example  of  so  great  a  cloud  of  witnesses,”  “  who 
through  faith  subdued  kingdoms,  wrought  righteous¬ 
ness,  obtained  promises,  stox3ped  the  mouths  of  lions, 
quenched  the  violence  of  fire,  escaped  the  edge  of  the 
sword,  out  of  weakness  were  made  strong^  waxed  val¬ 
iant  in  fight,  and  turned  to  flight  the  armies  of  the 
aliens.”  Out  of  weakness  were  made  strong — precise¬ 
ly  what  we  want,  and  faith  accomplishes  it ;  faith  in 


190 


SERMONS. 


Christ,  both  as  its  object  and  its  source ;  that  faith 
of  which  he  is  the  author  and  the  finisher.”  Christ 
strengthens  us  by  working  in  us  faith. 

Once  more :  he  strengthens  us  by  union  with 
hmself.  This  is  the  office  and  effect  of  faith.  We 
trust  an  unseen,  not  an  absent  Saviour.  He  is  not 
afar  off,  but  at  hand.  We  should  seek  the  Lord,  if 
haply  we  might  feel  after  him,  and  find  him,  though 
he  be  not  far  from  every  one  of  us,  for  in  him  we  live, 
and  move,  and  have  our  being.  This  is  not  more  true 
of  the  natural  relation  we  sustain  to  God,  than  of  the 
spiritual  relation  we  sustain  to  Christ.  If  we  are  true 
believers,  it  is  in  him  we  live,  and  move,  and  have 
our  spiritual  being.  He  is  indeed  not  far  from  every 
one  of  us.  Hor  are  we  merely  near  him.  We  are 
united  with  him.  W e  are  ingrafted  on  him,  we  are 
inserted  in  him.  The  nature  of  the  union  thus  de¬ 
noted  by  strong  figures  is  to  us  inscrutable.  W e  only 
know  that  they  express  a  great  and  glorious  reality, 
of  which  we  can  judge  by  its  effects  ;  and  its  effects 
are  such  as  these,  that  the  life  we  now  live  is  no 
longer  ours  but  Christ’s,  that  the  spiritual  strength 
we  now  exert  is,  in  the  same  sense.  His ;  that  his 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  our  weakness ;  so  that 
when  we  are  weak  then  we  are  strong ;  and  instead 
of  despairing,  we  can  glory  in  infirmities.  This  new, 
transcendent,  real,  though  mysterious  strength,  is  the 
fruit  of  union  with  the  Saviour  ;  and  the  union  which 
produces  this  strength  is  itself  produced  by  faith.  In 
giving  faith  then,  Christ  gives  union,  and  in  giving 
union,  he  gives  strength.  Ho  wonder  that  the  same 
soul  which  desponded  when  cast  upon  its  own  re- 


PHILirPIANS  4,  13.  -[9j^ 

sources,  should  feel  strong  as  it  grows  conscious  of  its 
union,  its  identity  with  Christ.  In  itself  it  could  do 
nothing.  In  him  it  can  do  all  things.  This  is  the 
true  sense  of  Paul’s  language.  I  can  do  all  things, 
not  merely  through^  but  in  Christ  enabling  me,  not 
merely  by  his  help,  but  by  spiritual  union  and  incor¬ 
poration  with  him,  so  that  he  lives  in  me  and  I  live 
in  him.  Brethren,  Christ  strengthens  us  by  uniting 
us  to  himself. 

In  all  these  ways,  then,  by  instruction,  by  exam¬ 
ple,  by  his  love  constraining  them,  by  faith  uniting 
them  to  himself,  the  Saviour  strengthens  true  believ¬ 
ers,  even  the  weakest,  till  at  last  in  the  assurance  of 
this  strength  they  lose  the  sense  of  their  own  weak¬ 
ness  altogether,  and  can  face  the  most  appalling  dan¬ 
gers,  and  the  most  gigantic  difficulties,  saying,  I  can 
do,  not  merely  this  or  that,  but  all  things,  not  merely 
one  thing,  or  a  few  things,  or  many  things,  but  all 
things,  in  Christ  enabling  me. 

Let  us  now  consider  more  particularly  what  is 
comprehended  in  the  general  expression  all  things.” 
We  cannot  add  to  its  extent  of  meaning,  which  is 
already  universal ;  but  we  may  give  additional  dis¬ 
tinctness  to  our  own  conceptions,  by  observing  sepa¬ 
rately  some  of  the  detached  particulars  summed  up 
in  the  collective  phrase,  ‘^all  things.”  And  as  the 
very  strength  of  this  expression  makes  complete 
enumeration  impossible,  we  must  be  contented  to  dis¬ 
tinguish  a  few  classes,  among  which  the  particulars 
may  be  distributed.  When  the  Apostle  or  the  humblest 
Christian,  in  the  triumph  of  his  faith,  exclaims,  “  I 
can  do  all  things,”  he  means,  of  course,  all  that  is  re- 


192 


SERMONS. 


qnired  or  necessary.  He  may,  therefore,  be  naturally 
understood  as  saying :  “  I  can  do  all  duty.’’  Christ 
came  not  to  destroy  but  to  fulfil.  The  Christian  is 
no  longer  under  the  law  as  a  way  of  salvation,  but  he 
is  under  law  as  a  rule  of  duty.  The  Saviour  freed 
men  from  the  heavy  yoke  of  legal,  ceremonial  bondage, 
but  he  did  not  free  them  wholly  from  restraint.  For 
he  invites  them  to  take  his  yoke  upon  them,  and  as¬ 
sures  them  that  his  yoke  is  easy  and  his  burden  light. 
The  believer  still  has  duties  to  perform,  and  the  re¬ 
mainder  of  corruption  often  makes  them  hard  indeed. 
He  knows  not  how  to  go  about  them.  He  shrinks 
from  them.  He  would  gladly  evade  them,  or  per¬ 
suade  himself  that  they  are  not  obligatory,  but  in 
vain.  As  soon  as  his  sophistical  reasoning  is  conclud¬ 
ed,  he  reverts,  as  if  by  instinct,  to  his  old  conclusion. 
He  admits  the  obligation.  He  attempts  to  discharge 
it.  But  a  thousand  difficulties  spring  up  in  his  way, 
until  at  last,  despairing  of  escape,  he  manfully  resolves 
to  brave  them,  in  reliance  on  divine  grace.  And  no 
sooner  is  this  resolution  formed,  than  all  his  difficul¬ 
ties  vanish.  He  beholds  with  astonishment  the  moun¬ 
tain  levelled  to  a  plain.  He  is  ready  to  ascribe  the 
change  to  outward  causes,  but  he  soon  finds  that  the 
change  is  in  himself.  He  is  conscious  of  strength, 
but  not  his  own,  and  knowing  whence  it  comes,  he  is 
ready  to  cry  out,  in  the  j)i’osence  of  the  very  obsta¬ 
cles  and  perils  which  before  unmanned  him ;  I  can 
do  all  things  through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me.” 

We  may  safely  appeal  to  the  experience  of  every 
Christian,  for  the  truth  of  the  assertion,  that  nothing 
so  etfectually  overcomes  the  hinderances  to  duty,  and 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


193 


supplies  tlie  want  of  strength  for  its  performance,  as 
the  teaching  of  Christ  by  his  word  and  spirit — the 
inciting  influence  of  his  example — the  consciousness 
of  love  to  him  as  an  impelling  motive — the  active 
exercise  of  faith  in  him  as  the  foundation  of  our  hope 
• — and,  above  all,  the  controlling  sense  of  oneness  with 
him — from  the  joint  operation  of  which  causes,  the 
most  fearful  and  infirm  of  his  true  follow^ers,  who, 
abandoned  to  himself,  could  do  nothing,  absolutely 
nothing,  can  do  all  things,”  in  the  way  of  duty. 

Taking  duty”  in  the  widest  sense  of  which  the 
word  admits,  what  has  now  been  said  may  be  con¬ 
sidered  as  including  all  emergencies.  For  if  the 
Christian  can  do  all  he  ought  to  do,  nothing  more  can 
be  demanded  or  desired.  Thus  explained,  this  is  not 
so  much  a  special  case  to  which  the  text  aiiplies,  as 
an  additional  description  of  all  cases.  But  if  we  take 
the  doing  of  duty  in  a  more  restricted  sense,  as  signi¬ 
fying  active  compliance  v^^itli  a  positive  command, 
there  are  other  cases  left  to  which  the  doctrine  of  the 
text  may  be  applied.  Foi-  they  whom  Christ  thus 
strengthens,  are  not  only  qualified  to  do  his  will  in 
the  specific  sense  just  mentioned,  i.  e.^  to  perform  the 
acts  which  he  requires,  as  pleasing  in  his  sight,  but 
also  to  resist  the  evil  influences  which  assail  them 
from  another  quarter.  The  believer  is  not  only  called 
to  the  performance  of  duty ;  he  is  also  tempted  to 
the  commission  of  sin.  He  is  therefore  in  danger  ot 
offending  God,  both  by  omission  and  by  positive 
transgression. 

This  two-fold  danger  is  enhanced  by  his  own 
weakness.  As  he  has  not  spiritual  strength  to  do 
VOL.  II. — 9 


194 


SERMONS. 


what  is  right,  so  he  has  not  strength  to  resist  or  avoid 
evil.  This  arises  from  the  nature  of  our  fallen  state. 
That  state  is  not  one  of  mere  indifference  or  even  of 
repugnance  to  what  God  requires,  but  of  inclination 
and  attachment  to  what  God  forbids.  When  left  to 
ourselves,  therefore,  we  cannot  remain  in  equilibrio. 
The  scale  of  evil  instantly  predominates.  Our  native 
dispositions  and  affections  are  not  neutral,  but  en¬ 
listed  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  controversy.  This  is 
the  case,  even  with  true  converts,  just  so  far  as  their 
corruption  is  permitted  to  control  their  conduct.  That 
control  is  no  longer,  and  can  never  again  become 
paramount,  much  less  exclusive.  But  it  may  con¬ 
tinue  and  extend  so  far  as  to  make  resistance  to 
temptation  one  of  their  severest  trials — so  severe  that 
they  are  sometimes  ready  to  despair  of  being  able  to 
withstand.  And  yet,  if  such  be  truly  the  desire  of 
their  hearts,  their  own  experience  shall  effectually  | 
teach  them  that  what  is  impossible  with  man  is  jDOSsi-  ! 
ble  with  God.  The  same  voice  that  says  to  them  in 
tones  of  solemn  warning  :  Let  him  that  tliinketh  he 
standeth  take  heed  lest  he  fall,  ”  (1  Cor.  10,  12,)  shall 
also  say  to  them  in  tones  of  merciful  encouragement : 

(1  Cor.  5.  13.)  There  hath  no  temptation  taken  you 
but  such  as  is  common  to  man ;  and  God  is  faithful, 
who  will  not  suffer  you  to  be  tempted  above  that  ye 
are  able,  but  will,  Vvith  the  temptation,  also  make  a 
way  of  escape,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  bear  it.” 

ISTow  what  is  this  way  {e/cjSacn^;)  of  escape  but  Christ 
himself,  and  how  shall  our  weakness  and  corruption 
become  able  to  endure  temptation,  but  through 
Christ  enabling  us  ?  Here  then  is  another  great  emer- 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


195 


gency  to  which  the  text  applies  ;  and  1  put  it  to  your¬ 
selves,  Christian  brethren,  whether  you  have  not  ex¬ 
perienced,  in  some  degree,  the  efficacy  of  the  means 
which  God  has  thus  provided.  Is  there  no  well- 
remembered  juncture  in  your  history — in  that  of  some 
among  you  have  there  not  been  many — when  the  con¬ 
quest  of  yourselves  and  the  defeat  of  your  spiritual 
foes  seemed  as  hopeless  as  the  conquest,  nay  as  the 
creation,  of  a  world ;  and  you  were  ready,  though  un¬ 
willing,  to  succumb,  in  sheer  despair  of  a  successful 
resistance  ?  hut  precisely  at  the  moment  when  this 
self-despair  had  reached  its  height,  it  was  transformed, 
as  by  a  miracle,  into  a  childlike  trust  in  Christ,  for 
which  it  seemed  to  be  the  necessary  preparation  ;  and 
before  that  new-born  strength,  the  force  of  your 
temptations  seemed  to  melt  and  vanish,  so  that,  as  you 
looked  with  a  serene  contempt  upon  what  a  little 
while  before  appeared  invincible,  you  could  say  as 
Paul  says,  and  as  every  true  believer,  in  his  turn  is 
called  to  say,  I  can  do  all  things  through  Christ 
enabling  me.  Yes,  through  him  you  can  do  even  that 
which  seems  most  hopeless ;  you  can  endure,  resist, 
subdue,  despise,  all,  all  temptation ! 

In  the  two  cases  which  have  now  been  mentioned, 
we  have  seen  the  Christian  actively  performing  and 
resisting  through  the  power  of  Christ  enabling  him. 
But  there  is  still  a  third  case  which  must  not  be  over¬ 
looked  ;  a  case  in  which  the  Christian  is  not  active  but 
2:)assive.  He  is  not  called  merely  to  performance  and 
resistance,  but  to  patient  endurance.  This  is  in  some 
resj^ects  more  trying  than  either  of  the  others.  Hot 
merely  because  it  involves  the  painful  sense  of  suffer- 


196 


SERMONS. 


ing,  but  because  it  contains  notliing  to  excite  and 
stimulate,  and  foster  pride.  To  obey  and  to  resist  are 
active  duties  wbicli  require  an  energetic  exercise  of 
will.  But  to  endure,  to  suffer,  to  lie  still,  to  be  inca¬ 
pable  of  action  or  resistance — this  is  to  many  a  severer 
test — it  is  to  all  bard,  bard  indeed.  Wben  tbis  jDart 
of  Grod’s  providential  discipline  begins  to  be  applied 
to  individual  believers,  they  are  sometimes  ready  to 
repine  and  quarrel  at  its  being  used  at  all  in  tbeir 
case.  They  cannot  see  tbe  need  of  remedies  so  pain¬ 
ful,  wben  a  milder  treatment,  as  they  tbink,  would 
answer  every  needful  purpose.  At  length,  perhaps, 
they  are  convinced  of  tbeir  error,  and  made  willing, 
by  painful  but  wholesome  experience,  to  believe 
that  tbe  evidence  of  God’s  paternal  favour  towards 
them  would  have  been  less  clear  and  perfect  if  they 
bad  not  been  thus  visited.  Tbeir  minds  are  satisfied, 
at  least  as  to  tbis  kind  of  spiritual  discipline  being 
adapted  to  tbeir  course.  But  still  they  may  be  ready 
to  find  fault  with  tbe  degree,  with  tbe  extent,  to  which 
tbe  process  is  continued.  They  are  ready  to  say.  It 
is  good  that  I  Jiave  been  afflicted,  but  they  cannot 
restrain  themselves  from  addino- :  “  How  often  and 
bow  long,  O  Lord?  forever?”  Yet  even  tbis  bard 
lesson  many  have  been  made  to  learn,  and  learn  it  so 
effectually,  that  they  may  be  said  to  liave  become  ac¬ 
customed  even  to  tbe  long  confinuance  or  frequent 
repetition  of  some  providential  strokes,  as  peculiarly 
adapted  to  tbeir  case,  and  ]3erbaps  essential  to  tbeir 
spiritual  safety. 

But  tbis  familiarity  with  certain  forms  of  suffering 
may  destroy  or  at  least  impair  its  medicinal  effect, 


PHILIPPIANS  4,  13. 


197 


and  when  tlie  Great  Pliysiciaii  suddenly  changes  his 
accustomed  mode  of  treatment,  and  applies  some  un¬ 
tried,  unexpected  remedy,  the  first  smart  of  the  new 
process  often  forces,  even  from  the  hearts  of  true  be¬ 
lievers,  the  expostulating  question.  Why  tliis  new  inflic¬ 
tion  ?  I  had  learned  to  hear  the  other  ;  I  had  almost 
ceased  to  feel  it ;  but  this  new  stroke  opens  all  my 
wounds  afresh,  and  reproduces  my  almost  forgotten 
agonies.  In  thus  saying,  or  thus  thinking,  how  un¬ 
consciously  ma}’  those  who  suffer  answer  their  own 
arguments,  and  vindicate  the  very  course  of  which 
they  venture  to  complain.  They  little  think,  at  least 
in  the  first  moment  of  surprise,  that  this  new  form  of 
the  divine  dispensations  may  have  been  adopted  for 
the  very  reason  that  the  old  one  had  become  endur¬ 
able,  and  therefore  ineffectual.  But  even  this  consid¬ 
eration,  when  suggested  and  received,  is  not  enough 
to  give  the  necessary  power  of  endurance.  That  is 
still  afforded  only  by  the  presence  of  Christ,  and  the 
believer’s  union  with  him.  It  is  only  when  that  union 
has  been  consciously  effected  and  has  borne  its  neces¬ 
sary  fruit,  that  the  afflicted  soul  can  say  with  full  as¬ 
surance  of  its  sorest  trials,  however  frequent,  various, 
or  protracted,  as  it  said  before  of  duty  and  resistance 
to  temptation,  “lean  do  all  things  through  Christ 
which  strengtheneth  me.” 

If  this  view  of  the  strength  derived  by  Christians 
from  their  union  with  the  Saviour  enabling  them  to 
act,  resist,  and  suffer,  even  in  the  most  extreme  emer¬ 
gencies,  could  be  presented  clearly  to  the  mind,  the 
belief  of  those  who  are  still  strangers  to  him,  it  is  al¬ 
most  inconceivable  that  they  should  fail  to  experience 


198 


SERMONS. 


a  kind  of  envious  dissatisfaction.  Even  some  of  yon, 
my  hearers,  may  be  ready  to  exclaim,  All  things  are 
possible  to  the  believer,  bnt  to  me  belief  itself  is  the 
greatest  of  all  impossibilities.  If  I  repent  and  be¬ 
lieve,  I  can  do  all  things,  bnt  I  cannot  comply  with 
the  condition,  and  I  cannot  therefore  lay  hold  of  the 
promise.  Yes,  yes,  yon  can.  If  yon  are  truly  will¬ 
ing,  yon  are  able ;  for  the  same  grace  that  enables, 
must  dispose.  If  yon  are  willing,  yon  are  able,  not 
in  your  own  strength,  bnt  enabled  by  tlie  same  Christ 
who  enables  the  believer  to  do  all  the  rest.  The  first 
step  that  he  takes  in  his  journey  heavenward,  he  takes 
leaning  on  the  same  arm  that  supports  him  to  the 
end.  This  is  one  of  the  mysteries  of  the  gospel,  hard 
to  explain  bnt  glorious  to  believe,  that  a  gracious  God 
bestows  what  he  requires,  and  gives  ns  even  that 
without  which  he  gives  nothing.  If  yon  would  really 
be  saved,  that  desire  is  as  much  his  work  as  the  sal¬ 
vation  which  it  seeks,  and  he  who  wrought  it  in  yon 
will  not  suffer  it  to  remain  unsatisfied.  Look  up 
then,  sinking  and  desponding  soul,  and  put  not  from 
you  the  last  hope,  and,  it  may  be,  the  last  opportunity 
of  safety.  Repent,  believe  1  These  are  among  the 
“  all  things  ”  which,  through  Christ  enabling,  even 
yon  may  do,  and  having  done  them,  yon  shall  then 
be  able  to  do  all  tilings  else,  until  at  last  looking 
back  upon  difficulties  conquered,  nay,  impossibilities 
achieved,  and  forward  to  the  course  yet  to  bo  run,  in 
time  or  in  eternity,  your  farewell  shout  of  victory 
shall  still  be  the  same  as  the  first  faint,  feeble  cry  of 
your  new-born  hope,  I  can,  I  can  do  all  things, 
through  Christ  which  strengtheneth  me.” 


Psalm  51,  Y. — Purge  mo  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean;  wash 
me,  and  I  shall  be  whiter  than  snow. 


Tiieee  is  no  surer  index  of  men’s  real  dispositions 
and  desires  than  their  prayers;  not  their  forms  of 
prayer,  whether  written  or  unwritten,  whether  pre¬ 
scribed  by  others  or  imposed  upon  themselves,  hut  their 
real  |)rayers,  the  genuine  expression  of  their  own  de¬ 
sires,  extorted  from  them  by  the  urgent  sense  of  want, 
or  danger,  or  distress  ;  such  prayers  as  are  sometimes 
offered  by  men  who  do  not  habitually  pray  at  all ; 
nay,  such  as  even  the  blaspheming  atheist  has  been 
heard  to  pray  in  his  agony  of  terror,  when  a  storm  at 
sea,  or  a  dangerous  illness  has  not  only  convinced 
him  that  there  is  a  God,  but  forced  him  to  his  foot¬ 
stool  as  a  suppliant  for  mercy.  Such  prayers  are 
prayed  perhajDS  by  all  men  at  some  time  of  their  lives, 
and  may  therefore  be  ajDpealed  to,  as  exemplifying 
what  is  meant  by  saying,  that  the  surest  index  to 
men’s  real  dispositions  and  desires  is  that  furnished 
by  tlieir  prayers. 

These  may  also  be  described  as  affording  the  most 
certain  test  of  men’s  disagreement  or  agreement  with 


200 


SERMONS. 


eacli  other,  as  to  that  which  constitutes  the  theme  or 
burden  of  the  prayer.  Whoever  can  appropriate  the 
prayers  of  others,  as  the  genuine  expression  of  his 
own  desires,  must  desire  the  same  things.  However 
they  may  differ  as  to  other  matters,  here  they  must 
agree,  or  else  their  union  in  prayer  is  hypocritical. 
This  is  true  of  all  prayer,  whether  heard,  in  public,  or 
overheard  in  secret,  or  read  in  books.  So  far  as  that 
which  is  thus  read  or  heard  is  found  to  express  the 
religions  feelings  or  desires  of  him  who  reads  or  hears 
it,  so  far  must  those  feelings  and  desires  be  coincident 
with  those  of  the  man  by  whom  the  prayer  was  of¬ 
fered.  In  this  way  we  may  judge  of  the  agreement 
of  onr  own  experience  Avith  that  of  others,  not  merely 
of  onr  own  contem]3oraries,  but  of  those  long  since 
departed.  When  Ave  read  the  biographies  of  pious 
men,  and  find  there  the  petitions  in  which  they  ex¬ 
pressed  the  fulness  of  their  hearts,  if  ours  respond  to 
them,  if  Ave  can  say  amen  to  them,  if  we  can  use  them 
to  express  our  oaaui  desires,  then  Ave  may  safely  con¬ 
clude  that  Ave  are  sharers,  so  far,  in  the  same  expe¬ 
rience  which  they  haAm  left  on  record. 

But  delightful  as  this  feeling  of  communion  witli 
the  pious  dead  may  be,  it  is  attended  with  a  certain 
danger,  that  of  sharing  in  their  Aveaknesses  and  errors, 
as  A\mll  as  in  their  pure  desires  and  heavenly  aspira¬ 
tions.  This  hazard  must  exist  in  every  case  except 
Avhere  inspiration  sets  its  seal,  not  only  on  the  truth 
of  the  record,  but  on  the  genuineness  of  the  exercises 
there  recorded.  It  Avas  not  the  special  inspiration  of 
the  holy  men  of  old  ’’  that  produced  their  faith  and 
repentance  ;  if  it  Avere,  Ave  could  not  hope  to  be  par- 


201 


PSALM  51,  r. 

takers  of  tlie  same,  unless  inspired  as  they  were.  But 
their  inspiration  does  assure  ns,  in  the  first  place,  that 
their  faith  and  repentance  are  correctly  stated,  and  in 
the  next  place,  that  they  were  genuine  ;  so  that  if  we 
wish  to  bring  our  own  to  the  test  or  comparison  with 
theirs,  we  may  do  so  without  fear  of  risk  or  error. 
For  this  very  purpose  the  Bible  contains  many  such 
expressions  of  the  faith  and  repentance,  the  hope  and 
love,  exercised  by  ancient  saints,  to  serve  not  only  as 
examples  but  as  formulas,  in  which  to  clothe  our  own 
desires  and  emotions,  and  so  far  as  we  can  do  so  with 
sincerity,  we  have  a  right  to  claim  a  share  in  their 
experience.  This  is  one  main  design  of  the  hook  of 
Psalms,  and  to  this  use  it  has  always  been  applied  by 
true  believers,  not  in  public  worship  and  instruction 
merely,  but  in  their  most  intimate  communings  with 
themselves  and  God.  And  if  there  is  any  one  psalm 
which  above  all  others  has  been  found  appropriate  to 
this  end,  it  is  surely  that  from  which  the  text  is  taken, 
and  in  which  the  broken-hearted  penitent  of  every  age 
has  found  expressions  suited  to  convey  his  otherwise 
unutterable  groanings.  If  ever  there  was  genuine 
conviction,  and  repentance,  and  reliance  upon  free 
grace,  it  was  in  the  case  of  David,  which  affords  us 
therefore  a  most  interesting  opportunity  of  bringing 
our  own  feelings  to  the  test  or  standard  which  has 
been  described.  And  as  the  psalm  abounds  in  varied 
yet  harmonious  exhibitions  of  the  same  essential  truth, 
let  us  fix  our  attention  on  the  one  prayer  recorded  in 
the  text,  and  consider  iiow  far  we  are  able  and  pre¬ 
pared  to  appropriate  it  as  the  expression  of  our  own 
desires.  To  this  end  it  will  be  necessary  to  inquire 

VOL.  II. — 9'^ 


202 


SERMONS. 


Ilow  mucli  is  involved  or  presupposed  in  tlie  petition. 
And  this  may  prove  to  be  far  more  than  appears  at 
first  sight. 

For,  in  the  first  place,  no  one  can  sincerely  offer 
this  petition  unless  conscions  of  pollution  and  defile¬ 
ment.  This  is  necessarily  implied  in  the  very  terms 
of  the  petition.  He  who  says  Cleanse  me,  says  by 
implication,  I  am  filthy.  But  this  is  a  confession 
from  which  pride  revolts.  Hot  even  all  who  are  in 
a  certain  sense  convinced  of  sin  are  willing  to  ac¬ 
knowledge  this,  or  even  able  so  to  do  without  hypoc¬ 
risy.  A  man  may  be  conscious  of  sin  as  a  negation, 
as  want  of  conformity  to  a  standard  which  he  recog¬ 
nizes  as  the  true  one,  or  even  as  a  positive  violation 
of  a  rule  which  he  admits  to  be  obligatory  ;  not  only 
intrinsically  right,  but  binding  on  himself ;  and  yet 
he  may  recoil  from  the  acknowledgment  of  sin  as  a 
pollution  of  defilement ;  something  which  makes  him 
an  object  of  loathing  and  abhorrence  to  all  holy  be¬ 
ings,  and  even  to  himself  so  far  as  he  is  really  en¬ 
lightened  in  the  knowledge  of  God’s  nature  and  his 
own.  Yet  this  profound  and  painful  self-contempt  is 
an  essential  part  of  true  repentance,  because  it  is  a 
necessary  consequence  of  just  views  as  to  sin  and  holi¬ 
ness.  And  even  if  not  necessary  to  salvation,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  an  earnest  and  sincere  appro¬ 
priation  of  these  words  of  David  as  the  expression  of 
our  own  desires.  For  even  common  sense  may  teach 
us,  that  unless  a  man  is  conscious  of  defilement  and 
uncleanness,  he  cannot  with  sincerity  ask  God  to 
cleanse  him. 

But  there  is  still  another  thing  implied  in  this  re- 


PSALM  51,  7. 


203 


quest,  or  ratlier  expressed  by  it ;  consent  and  willing¬ 
ness,  nay  an  importunate  desire  to  be  purified.  This 
is  by  no  means  identical  with  what  has  been  already 
said,  nor  even  necessarily  included  in  it.  The  sense 
of  pollution  is  perfectly  distinguishable  from  the  wfish 
to  be  delivered  from  it.  True,  when  the  sense  of  pol¬ 
lution  is  a  product  of  divine  grace,  it  is  always  ac¬ 
companied  or  followed  in  experience  by  the  desire  of 
purification.  bTor  has  any  one  a  right  to  plead  or  to 
profess  his  consciousness  of  defilement,  unless  corrob¬ 
orated  by  such  a  desire.  But  for  that  very  reason, 
it  is  highly  important  to  look  at  this  desire  as  a  dis¬ 
tinct  prerequisite  or  element  of  true  repentance.  And 
another  reason  for  so  doing  is,  that  in  the  experience 
of  the  unregenerate  a  painful  sense  of  degradation 
and  defilement  may  and  often  does  coexist  with  a 
prevailing  wish  to  continue  in  it.  Why  ?  because  the 
man  loves  the  very  thing  which  he  acknowledges  and 
really  feels  to  be  debasing.  What  his  better  judg¬ 
ment,  and  his  conscience  partially  enlightened  tell 
him  is  disgraceful,  his  vitiated  appetite,  his  perverted 
affections,  cleave  to  and  delight  in.  The  drunkard 
and  the  libertine,  and  other  classes  of  notorious  sin¬ 
ners,  have  frequently  an  overwhelming  sense  of  their 
own  baseness,  a  distressing  consciousness  that  they 
have  sunk  themselves  below  the  level  of  their  kind, 
and  almost  to  the  level  of  the  brutes  that  perish. 
And  this  not  only  in  their  lucid  intervals  of  abstinence 
and  partial  reformation,  but  often  in  the  very  parox¬ 
ysm  of  indulgence,  the  unhappy  victim  of  his  own 
corruption  feels  himself  to  be  an  object  of  abhorrence 
and  contempt  to  all  around  him,  and  in  proportion  to 


204 


SERMONS. 


the  light  which  he  eiijojs  and  the  restraints  which  he 
has  broken  through,  may  even  be  said  to  despise 
himself. 

But  this  consciousness  of  degradation,  however 
real  and  however  strong,  is  never  sufficient  of  itself 
to  overcome  the  evil  dispositions  which  occasion  it. 
It  is  not  enough  for  man  to  know  that  sin  degrades 
him,  if  he  still  so  loves  it  as  to  be  willing  to  submit 
to  degradation  for  the  sake  of  its  indulgence.  ISTor 
will  a  mere  sense  of  pollution  ever  drive  a  man  to 
God  for  cleansing,  if  his  affections  are  so  utterly  de¬ 
praved,  that  his  polluted  state  is  one  of  pleasure  and 
enjoyment  to  him,  not  for  its  own  sake,  not  considered 
as  defilement,  but  as  an  indispensable  condition  of 
those  sinful  joys  which  constitute  his  happiness.  He 
does  not  deliberately  choose  to  be  polluted  and  de¬ 
based,  for  this  is  inconsistent  with  the  consciousness 
of  degradation  which  we  are  supposing  to  exist.  But 
he  does  choose  to  endure  the  degradation  which  he  can¬ 
not  hide  even  from  himself,  for  the  sake  of  the  enjoy¬ 
ments  which  degrade  him.  How  with  this  unbroken 
love  to  evil,  no  sense  of  pollution  can  enable  him  to 
offer  the  petition  of  tlie  text ;  for  he  who  says  with  sin¬ 
cerity,  Cleanse  me,  says  not  only,  I  am  filthy,  but  I 
consent,  I  desire  to  be  cleansed. 

But  suppose  this  desire  to  be  felt.  Suppose  the 
sinner  to  be  not  only  couscious  of  defilement  but  de¬ 
sirous  of  purification.  And  suppose,  at  the  same  time, 
that  he  considers  himself  perfectly  able  to  produce  it 
or  secure  it  by  an  act  of  his  own  will,  or  by  a  series 
of  such  acts,  or  by  the  use  of  means  invented  by  him¬ 
self.  Will  such  a  man,  can  such  a  man  seek  purifica- 


PSALM  51,  7. 


205 


tion  at  tlie  Lands  of  another?  Is  it  not  a  dictate  of 
reason  and  experience,  that  what  men  can  do  for 
themselves  they  will  not  solicit  others  to  do  for  them? 
True,  there  are  exceptions,  but  only  such  exceptions 
as  confirm  the  rule.  Some  are  so  indolent,  or  proud, 
or  helpless,  that  they  gladly  devolve  upon  others  what 
they  should  do  for  themselves  :  but  the  public  voice 
condemns  their  sloth,  and  in  so  doing  bears  witness 
to  the  general  fact,  that  what  men  are  conscious  of 
ability  to  do  themselves,  they  do  not  invite  others  to 
do  for  them.  The  same  thing  equally  holds  good  in 
spiritual  matters.  No  man  comes  to  God  for  cleans¬ 
ing  who  believes  that  he  can  cleanse  himself.  It 
matters  not  how  deep  his  sense  of  degradation  and 
corruption ;  no,  nor  how  desirous  to  be  purified  he 
seems,  if  he  believes  that  he  can  do  the  necessary 
work  himself,  he  will  not,  cannot,  join  in  this  petition. 
He  may  try  a  thousand  other  methods  ;  he  may  mor¬ 
tify  his  appetites  and  macerate  his  flesh  ;  he  may  go 
on  a  pilgrimage  and  cross  the  seas  ;  he  may  give  all 
his  goods  to  feed  the  poor  ;  he  may  give  the  fruit  of 
his  body  for  the  sin  of  his  soul ;  he  may  give  his  very 
body  to  be  burned ;  but  so  long  as  he  believes  in  his 
capacity,  by  these  or  any  other  means,  to  cleanse 
himself,  he  cannot  pray  the  prayer  of  David  in  the 
text ;  for  he  who  with  sincerity  says  Cleanse  me,” 
says  by  that  very  act,  “  I  cannot  cleanse  myself.” 

But  here,  as  elsewhere,  Satan  has  an  opposite  ex¬ 
treme  for  men  to  rush  to.  The  extreme  of  impious 
jDresumption  often  leads  directly  to  that  of  unbelieving 
despondency.  From  the  absurd  belief  that  man 
can  do  everything,  they  leap  to  the  absurd  belief  that 


206 


SERMONS. 


God  can  do  nothing.  Once  convinced  that  he  cannot 
cleanse  himself,  the  sinner  is  in  danger  of  conclniling 
that  purification  is  impossible.  And  in  this  desperate 
belief,  some  go  on  in  their  sins,  not  that  grace  may 
abound,  but  because  grace  is  believed  to  be  forever  un¬ 
attainable.  hfow  if  there  is  any  thing  which  may  be 
reckoned  a  certain  dictate  of  reason  and  experience, 
it  is  that  men  will  never  seriously  ask  that  to  be  done 
which  they  believe  to  be  impossible,  or  ask  another 
to  do  that  of  which  they  know  him  to  be  utterly  in¬ 
capable.  How  can  a  man  then  ask  God  to  cleanse 
him,  if  he  despairs  of  being  cleansed,  as  something 
utterly  impossible.  Or  what  will  it  avail  that  he  be¬ 
lieves  himself  polluted,  and  is  willing  to  be  purified, 
and  knows  himself  to  be  incapable  of  doing  it,  if  at 
the  same  time  he  believes  it  to  be  equally  beyond  the 
power  of  the  Almighty?  Ho,  whoever  earnestly  and 
sincerely  says  to  his  Maker,  “  Cleanse  me,”  says  im¬ 
plicitly  as  the  leper  in  the  gospel  said  expressly,  “  If 
thou  wilt  thou  canst.” 

Hay,  this  belief  in  God’s  ability  to  do  what  we 
demand  of  him,  is  not  merely  implied  but  expressed 
in  the  petition  of  the  text :  Purge  me  with  hyssop, 
and  I  shall  l)e  clean  /  wash  me,  and  1  shall  l)e  whiter 
than  snow.”  This  is  equivalent  to  saying,  if  thou 
purge  me,  I  shall  certainly  be  clean  ;  if  thou  wash  me, 
I  shall  certainly  be  whiter  than  snow.”  But  the  words 
thus  added  have  another  meaning,  or  rather  another 
application,  which  is  not  to  be  neglected.  They  are 
also  equivalent  to  saying,  “  Purge  me  with  hyssop, 
that  I  may  he  clean ;  wash  me,  that  I  may  he  whiter 
than  snow.”  Thus  understood,  they  give  the  reason 


PSALM  51,  '7. 


207 


why,  the  end  for  which,  the  royal  penitent  desires 
to  be  cleansed.  But,  cleanse  me  that  I  may  he 
cleansed,  would  he  a  mere  tautology,  unless  we  give 
the  latter  words  a  pregnant  and  emphatic  meaning — 
that  I  maybe  cleansed  ” — i.  e.  that  I  may  he  entirely, 
thoroughly,  completely  cleansed.  A.nd  that  this  is 
really  the  meaning,  is  apparent  from  the  words  ex¬ 
pressly  added  in  the  other  clause — “  wash  me,  that  I 
may  he  whiter  than  snow.”  Snow,  wdierevcr  it  is 
known,  is  the  natural  and  customary  standard  of 
this  quality.  “As  white  as  snow,”  suggests  to  every 
mind  the  idea  of  unsullied  whiteness,  without  any 
tinge  or  shade  of  darker  colour.  “  Whiter  than  snow,” 
is  a  hyperbole,  denoting,  in  a  still  stronger  manner, 
absolute  or  perfect  whiteness,  perhaps  with  an  allu¬ 
sion  to  the  purity  here  spoken  of  as  something  super¬ 
natural,  both  in  its  origin  and  its  degree.  If  the  most 
spotless  and  unsullied  whiteness  known  to  nature  is 
the  whiteness  of  snow,  the  expression  “  whiter  than 
snow  ”  is  w^ell  adapted  to  suggest  the  idea  of  a  white¬ 
ness,  to  which  nature  furnishes  no  parallel,  and  of 
which  she  can  furnish  no  example.  This,  when  ap¬ 
plied  to  moral  and  spiritual  qualities,  must  signify  a 
perfect  purity  and  entire  freedom  from  moral  taint 
and  even  imperfection.  And  the  prayer,  “  wash  me, 
that  I  may  be  whiter  than  snow,”  expresses  a  wulling- 
ness,  or  rather  a  desire,  not  only  to  be  cleansed,  but 
to  be  fully  and  entirely  cleansed.  And  nothing  less 
than  this  desire  can  be  sufficient  on  the  part  of  one 
who  claims  to  be  a  sharer  in  the  faith  and  penitence 
of  David,  and  in  proof  of  that  participation  echoes 
liis  petition,  “  Purge  me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be 


208 


SERMONS. 


clean;  wash  me,  and  I  shall  he  whiter- than  snow.” 
Whoever  makes  this  prayer  his  own,  is  to  be  under¬ 
stood  as  saying,  “  I  desire  to  be  cleansed  from  all  pol¬ 
lution.” 

This  may,  at  first  sight,  seem  to  be  the  same  thing 
that  was  stated  as  the  second  particular.  But  near 
as  the  two  things  a-re  in  theory,  in  practice  and  ex¬ 
perience  they  differ  widely.  A  man  may  be  willing 
to  be  cleansed,  and  yet  not  anxious  to  be  cleansed 
completely ;  he  may  consent  to  be  “  white,”  yet  not 
aspire  to  be  whiter  than  snow.”  In  other  words,  he 
may  be  satisfied  with  partial  or  external  renovation. 
He  may  wish  to  see  some  stains  washed  out  and 
others  left  untouched  ;  or  he  may  earnestly  desire  to 
have  the  outward  surface  cleansed  from  its  pollution, 
while  the  inner  part  is  full  of  all  uncleanness.  He 
may  not  even  be  aware  of  the  extent,  the  depth,  of 
his  corruption.  He  may  be  disposed  to  look  upon  it 
as  a  superficial  or  cutaneous  atfection,  and  to  wfish  for 
the  removal  of  its  unsightly  and  disgusting  symptoms 
in  which  it  manifests  itself,  not  aware  that  these  are 
but  the  outward  symptoms  of  a  deep-seated  malady 
within  ;  and  that,  unless  this  be  reached  by  remedies, 
the  disappearance  of  the  symptoms  could  be  only  tem¬ 
porary,  and  mfight  aggravate  the  malady  itself.  It  is 
not  until  the  minds  of  men  are  thoroughly  awakened 
and  enlightened  in  relation  to  the  turpitude  of  sin, 
and  of  their  own  sin,  as  it  is  in  itself  and  as  it  is  in 
them,  and  filled  with  a  desire  to  be  saved  from  it  as 
well  as  from  the  punishment  which  it  incurs ;  it  is 
not  till  then  that  they  are  fully  able  to  adopt  the 
prayer  of  David,  as  a  prayer,  not  for  partial  but  com- 


PSALM  51,  7. 


209 


plete  purification  ;  and  to  understand  that  lie  who  says 
“  cleanse  me,”  asks,  not  only  to  he  white,  hut  also  to 
he  ‘‘  whiter  than  snow.” 

To  this  desire  of  perfect  purity,  however,  even  the 
heathen  may  attain,  and  some  of  their  philosophers 
have  actually  made  it  the  great  theme  of  their  moral 
speculations.  But  their  efforts  have  been  no  less  vain 
than  those  of  many  Christian  errorists,  to  solve  the 
mighty  problem  of  human  restoration  by  every  means 
but  that  of  God’s  appointment.  Even  those  who  pro¬ 
fess  to  rely,  and  do  rely,  on  God  as  the  sole  efficient 
cause  of  this  momentous  revolution,  may  expect  to 
see  it  brought  about  by  moral  suasion,  or  by  mere 
instruction,  or  by  good  example,  or  by  ceremonial 
forms,  or  by  meritorious  abstinence  or  penance,  or  by 
mere  connection  with  the  Church,  or  mere  enjoyment 
of  its  privileges,  or  by  mere  intellectual  reception  of 
the  truth,  or  by  any  other  means  distinct  from  Jesus 
Christ  and  his  atoning  sacrifice,  or  independent  of  it. 

And  yet  this  is  the  very  way,  the  only  way,  in 
which  the  sinful  soul  of  man  can  possibly  be  cleansed 
from  the  guilt  or  the  pollution  of  its  sins,  the  only 
way  in  which  it  can  either  be  justified  or  sancti¬ 
fied.  And  therefore  this  must  enter  into  men’s  de¬ 
sires  of  renovation  as  a  necessary  element,  or  they  can 
never  pray  the  prayer  of  David  in  its  true  sense  and 
its  genuine  spirit ;  no,  nor  even  in  the  plain  sense  of 
its  actual  expressions.  For  he  does  not  simply  say, 
“  Purge  me,”  but  specifically,  “  purge  me  with  hys¬ 
sop,”  an  expression  borrowed  from  the  purifying  cer¬ 
emonies  of  the  law,  by  which  the  fact  of  human 
depravity,  and  the  necessity  of  moral  renovation  were 


210 


SERMONS. 


continually  ke]3t  before  tlie  minds  of  tlie  people,  in 
connection  witli  tlie  doctrine  of  atonement  by  the 
sacrifice  of  life  for  life.  This  connection  was  inti¬ 
mated  and  enforced,  not  only  by  tbe  constant  com¬ 
bination  of  tliese  purifying  rites  witli  those  of  sacrifice, 
but  also  by  tlie  actual  affusion  or  aspersion  of  pure 
water,  as  tlie  natural  and  uniyersal  symbol  of  purifica¬ 
tion  in  general,  and  of  tbe  sacrificial  blood  as  tlie 
symbol  of  purification  from  the  guilt  and  stain  of  sin 
by  the  blood  of  Jesus  Christ  in  particular.  Among 
the  substances  combined  with  the  water  and  the  blood 
in  these  symbolical  purifications  was  the  plant  called 
hyssop,  which  was  also  used  as  a  mechanical  instru¬ 
ment  of  sprinkling,  and  was  thus  connected  in  a  two¬ 
fold  manner  with  the  purifying  rites  of  the  Mosaic 
ritual,  so  that  its  very  name  would  call  up,  in  the 
mind  of  every  Hebrew  reader,  the  idea  of  purification 
by  atoning  blood,  and  in  the  mind  of  those  especially 
enlightened,  the  idea  of  that  promised  Saviour,  by 
whose  blood  alone  this  moral  renovation  could  be  ren¬ 
dered  even  possible. 

To  all  then  that  has  been  already  mentioned  as 
essential  to  an  intelligent  and  full  participation  in  this 
prayer  of  David,  and  in  the  penitence  and  faith  of 
which  it  is  the  genuine  expression,  we  must  now  add 
that  all  is  unavailing,  because  either  spurious  or 
defective,  without  a  hearty  willingness,  not  only  to 
be  cleansed,  and  to  be  cleansed  by  God,  but  to  be 
cleansed  in  God’s  own  way ;  not  only  to  be  “  purged,” 
but  to  be  “  purged  with  hyssop,”  “  not  by  water  only, 
but  by  water  and  by  blood,”  and  through  him  who 
came  both  by  water  and  by  blood,  even  Jesus 


PSALM  51,  7. 


211 


Christ;”  for  the  blood  of  Jesns  Christ  his  Son, 
cieanseth  from  all  sin. 

If  then,  my  hearer,  yon  are  still  nnconscions  of 
your  guilt  and  danger  as  a  sinner  before  God ;  or  if 
you  are  convinced  of  sin  only  as  a  failure  to  come  up 
to  the  standard  of  God’s  law,  or  at  most  as  a  positive 
transgression  of  that  law,  but  not  as  a  pollution  and  a 
degradation,  loathsome  in  itself,  and  making  you  an 
object  of  abhorrence  to  all  sinless  intelligences  ;  or  if 
you  are  in  some  degree  aware  of  your  debasement,  but 
yet  willing  to  continue  in  it  for  the  sake  of  the  enjoy¬ 
ments  which  it  now  affords  you ;  or  if,  though  willing 
and  desirous  to  be  cleansed  from  this  pollution,  you 
are  trusting  in  your  own  strength  to  effect  it ;  or  be¬ 
cause  you  cannot  do  it,  are  unwilling  to  believe  that 
even  the  Almighty  can  ;  or  if  you  are  willing  and  de¬ 
sirous  to  be  only  cleansed  in  part,  and  shrink  from 
the  idea  of  complete  purgation  as  too  humbling  or  too 
self-denying  ;  or  if  you  are  even  willing  to  submit  to 
this  revolutionizing  process,  but  unwilling  to  resort  to 
Jesus  Christ  as  your  purifier,  and  to  his  blood  as  the 
only  purifying  element ;  on  any  of  these  suppositions, 
and  alas  how  many  individual  cases  -do  they  compre¬ 
hend,  whatever  else  you  may  do  with  eftect,  whatever 
else  you  may  say  with  sincerity,  I  tell  you  there  is 
one  thing  which  you  cannot  so  do  or  so  say,  you  can¬ 
not  join  sincerely  in  this  prayer  of  David — “  Purge 
me  with  hyssop,  and  I  shall  be  clean  ;  wash  me,  and  I 
shall  be  whiter  than  snow.”  To  yourself  such  a 
prayer  is  but  an  empty  and  unprofitable  form  ;  while 
to  God  whom  you  invoke,  it  is  a  mockery  and  insult. 

But  if,  through  God’s  grace,  your  experience  is  the 


212 


SERMONS. 


opposite  of  all  tliis,  if  you  do  indeed  feel  yourself  to 
be  a  sinner ;  if  you  feel  your  sin  not  only  as  a  burden 
and  a  debt,  but  as  a  stain  and  a  pollution  ;  if  you  are 
willing  to  forego  tlie  pleasures  of  sin  for  the  purpose 
of  escaping  from  this  deadly  degradation  ;  if  you  are 
thoroughly  convinced  that  you  cannot  cleanse  your¬ 
self,  and  yet  that  God  can  cleanse  you ;  if  you  can 
heartily  consent  to  be  cleansed  by  him,  not  super¬ 
ficially  or  partially,  but  thoroughly  and  perfectly — not 
in  the  way  of  your  own  choosing  or  of  man’s  devising, 
but  of  God’s  providing — then  my  prayer  is,  that  God 
may  deal  with  you  this  moment  as  he  dealt  of  old 
with  Hagar  in  the  wilderness  of  Beersheba,  wdien  he 
“  opened  her  eyes,  and  she  saw  a  well  of  w^ater ;  ”  but 
in  this  case,  not  by  Avater  only,  but  by  Avater  and  by 
blood,  for  ye  are  come,  perhaps  Avithout  suspecting 
it,  “  to  Jesus  the  Mediator  of  the  neAV  coA^enant,  and 
to  the  blood  of  S23rinkling,  a  blood  that  speaheth  bet¬ 
ter  things  than  that  of  “  See  that  ye  refuse 

not  Him  that  speaheth  ;  for  if  they  escaped  not  wdio 
refused  him  that  spake  on  earth,  much  more  shall  not 
Ave  escape  if  we  turn  away  from  him  that  speaketh 
from  lieaA^en.  Bor  (out  of  Christ)  our  God  is  a  con¬ 
suming  fire.” 


XII. 


Luke  13,  3.  (and  5.) — Except  ye  repent,  ye  sliall  all  likewise  perish. 


These  are  among  tlie  most  familiar  words  of  Scrip¬ 
ture,  and  among  those  most  frequently  employed  to 
rouse  the  consciences  of  the  impenitent.  They  are 
so  full  of  meaning,  that  even  the  most  commonplace 
and  superficial  exposition  of  the  sentence  must  convey 
enou£>:h  to  fill  the  mind  and  agitate  the  heart  of  one 
who  has  been  really  awakened.  There  is,  however, 
a  peculiar  point  and  pregnancy  of  import  in  the 
words,  which  may  he  wholly  overlooked  in  making 
them  a  simple  basis  for  the  general  affirmation  that 
All  sinners  mnst  repent  or  perish.  This,  true  and 
awful  as  it  is,  is  rather  presupposed  than  positively 
stated.  To  confine  ourselves  to  this,  as  the  whole 
meaning,  is  to  lose  sight  of  two  emphatic  words  in 
the  short  sentence  ;  ye  ”  and  likewise.”  Assum¬ 
ing,  as  a  truth  already  known,  that  all  men  must  re¬ 
pent  or  perish,  the  text  affirms  that  they  whom  it 
addresses  must  repent,  or  perish  likewise,  i.  6.,  like 
those  j^articularly  mentioned  in  the  context.  Another 
feature  of  the  passage  which  is  apt  to  be  neglected  is, 
that  it  not  only  teaches  the  necessity  of  repentance  to 


214 


SERMONS. 


salvatioiij  but  presents  a  specific  motive  for  its  ex¬ 
ercise,  or  rather  teaches  us  to  seek  occasions  of  re¬ 
pentance  in  a  quarter  where  most  of  us  are  naturally 
least  disposed  to  seek  them ;  nay,  where  most  of  us 
are  naturally  and  habitually  |)rone  to  find  excuses  for 
indulging  sentiments  as  far  removed  from  those  of 
penitence  as  possible ;  uncharitable  rigour  and  cen¬ 
sorious  pride. 

The  only  way  to  get  a  full  view  of  this  deep  and 
varied  import,  is  by  looking  at  the  text  in  its  connec¬ 
tion,  which  may  serve  at  the  same  time,  as  a  single 
but  remarkable  example,  to  illustrate  the  importance 
of  deriving  our  instructions  from  the  Scripture  in  its 
integrity  and  continuity,  and  not  from  certain  salient 
points,  which  frequent  handling  has  made  sharp  and 
bright,  but  at  the  same  time  often  put  into  a  false 
position  with  respect  to  that  by  which  they  are  con¬ 
nected,  and  without  which  they  cannot  be  duly  ap¬ 
preciated  or  even  correctly  understood. 

During  our  Lord’s  last  journey  to  Jerusalem,  of 
which  this  part  of  Luke  contains  a  full  and  deeply  in¬ 
teresting  narrative,  his  mind  seems  to  have  been  filled 
Avith  sad  forebodings  of  the  fearful  doom  impending 
over  Israel.  After  Avarning  his  disciples  and  exhort¬ 
ing  them  to  watchfulness,  by  A^arious  striking  parables 
and  figuratAe  illustrations,  he  turned,  on  one  occasion, 
to  the  multitude  who  were  present,  and,  addressing 
them  as  representatives  of  the  nation  at  large,  up¬ 
braided  their  stupidity  and  insensibility,  in  so  saga¬ 
ciously  anticipating  changes  of  the  weather  by  indi¬ 
cations  gathered  from  experience,  Avhile  even  the  most 
solemn  premonitions  of  approaching  moral  changes 


LUKE  13,  3. 


215 


and  catastrophes  escaped  their  notice.  When  ye 
see  a  cloud  rise  out  of  the  west,”  i.  <?.,  from  the  Med¬ 
iterranean  Sea,  “  straightway  ye  say,  there  cometh  a 
shower,”  or  rather  a  storm  of  rain,  “  and  so  it  is,”  for 
these  were  not  mere  random  guesses  or  fanciful  prog¬ 
nostications,  hut  the  fruit  of  long-continued  and  re¬ 
peated  observation.  “  And  when  ye  see  the  south 
wind  blow,”  from  the  direction  of  the  great  Arabian 
wilderness,  ye  say,  there  will  he  heat,  and  it  cometh 
to  pass.”  The  same  observant  and  sagacious  faculties, 
applied  to  things  of  infinitely  greater  moment,  might 
have  convinced  them  that  there  were  storms  and  heats 
at  hand,  of  which  they  were  at  present  wholly  unsus¬ 
picious.  This  absorption  in  mere  outward  interests 
and  changes,  to  the  neglect  of  inward  spiritual  things, 
is  tlie  hypocrisy  with  which  our  Saviour  here  re¬ 
proaches  them.  hypocrites,  ye  can  discern  the 

face  of  the  sky  and  of  the  earth ;  hut  how  is  it  that 
ye  do  not  discern  the  signs  of  this  time  ?  ”  the  prog¬ 
nostics  of  momentous  revolution,  Avith  which  that 
most  eventful  period  of  history  was  crowded. 

Without  reckoning  any  thing  purely  preternatural 
Avhich  we  find  recorded  hy  contemporary  writers,  that 
solemn  interval,  extending  from  the  advent  to  the 
downfall  of  Jerusalem,  was  full  of  strange  occurrences, 
all  showing  that  Jehovah  had,  according  to  his  proph¬ 
ecy,  begun  to  shake  the  nations.  Yet  of  these  ex¬ 
citing  and  alarming  symptoms,  the  contemporaries 
of  our  Saviour  took  so  little  note,  that  it  Avas  only  hy 
explicit,  or  at  least  hy  solemn  Avarning  that  he  could 
bring  these  fearful  futurities  before  their  minds.  Mo 
wonder  that,  impatient  of  this  strange  judicial  blind- 


216 


SERMONS. 


ness,  lie  exclaimed,  "Wliy  even  of  yourselves  judge 
ye  not  wliat  is  riglit.’’  Will- yon  apprehend  no  evil, 
unless  I  predict  it  in  so  many  words  ?  This  he  would 
not  do,  but  he  apprised  them  indirectly  of  their 
danger,  by  comparing  their  condition  to  that  of  one 
against  whom  his  neighbour  has  a  righteous  quarrel, 
and  who  is  just  about  to  be  arraigned  before  the  judg¬ 
ment  seat,  without  any  prospect  but  of  condemnation, 
and  whose  only  hope  is  therefore  in  a  speedy  compro¬ 
mise  and  reconciliation,  in  default  of  which  the  la^w 
must  have  its  course,  until  the  last  farthing  of  the 
debt  is  paid. 

This  illustration,  drawn  from  an  incident  of  real 
life,  which  comes  home,  with  peculiar  force,  to  the 
business  and  bosoms  of  the  mass  of  men  in  every 
civilized  community,  appears  to  have  produced  at 
least  so  much  effect  upon  the  feelings  of  some  hearers 
as  to  turn  their  thoughts  towards  strange  and  startling 
casualties,  as  tokens  of  divine  displeasure,  not  without 
a  secret  wish  to  understand  and  represent  them  as  de¬ 
noting  that  displeasure,  towards  the  few  and  not 
the  many,  towards  their  neighbours,  not  themselves. 
With  some  such  feeling,  certain  persons  present  in  the 
multitude  related  to  our  Saviour  a  revolting  incident, 
of  which  they  had  |)robably  just  heard,  a  massacre  of 
Galileans  by  the  cowardly  but  sanguinary  Roman 
procurator,  Pontius  Pilate,  at  the  very  altar,  so  that 
their  blood  might  be  said  to  have  been  “  mingled 

with  their  sacrifices.”  That  God  should  have  aban- 

« 

doned  them  to  heathen  cruelty  in  that  most  sacred  of 
asylums  where,  if  anywhere,  they  might  have  hoped 
for  his  protection,  did  indeed  look  like  a  terrible  ju» 


LUKE  13,  3. 


217 


dicial  visitation,  and  it  may  naturally  be  supposed 
that  tliey  who  told  and  they  who  heard  it,  while  they 
shuddered  at  the  sacrilegious  murder,  were  disposed 
to  say  within  themselves,  Yet  surely  they  must  have 
been  atrocious  sinners,  to  be  given  up  to  such  a 
fate !  ” 

Among  the  hearers  there  was  one,  however,  who 
felt  no  sympathy  with  this  self-righteous  and  unchari¬ 
table  judgment;  whose  mind  was  free  from  all  con¬ 
fusion,  and  his  feelings  from  all  bias  ;  who  saw  at 
once  the  truth  of  the  whole  case,  and  its  secret  effect 
upon  the  minds  of  those  around  him  ;  and  who  hast¬ 
ened,  with  his  usual  benevolent  severity,  to  check 
the  fermentation  of  insidious  error,  and  to  turn  the 
thoughts  of  those  who  had  embraced  it  in  upon  them¬ 
selves.  Instead  of  chiming  in  with  what  appeared  to 
be  a  pious  recognition  of  God’s  justice  in  the  punish¬ 
ment  of  sinners,  our  Saviour  tears  with  a  relentless 
hand  the  mask  from  the  secret  workings  of  his  hearers’ 
hearts,  and  forces  them  at  once  upon  their  own  re¬ 
luctant  sight  by  what  seems  to  be  a  simple  and  un¬ 
studied  answer,  but  in  wdiose  simplicity  there  was  a 
sting  for  many  a  hitherto  invulnerable  conscience. 
“  Suppose  ye  that  these  Galileans  were  sinners  above 
all  the  Galileans,  because  they  suffered  these  things  ?  ” 
It  was  no  doubt  to  his  Galilean  hearers  that  he 
especially  addressed  himself.  It  was  no  doubt  from 
them  that  this  report  of  Pilate’s  conduct  to  their 
countrymen  proceeded.  Hence  the  peculiar  force  of 
our  Lord’s  answer  to  his  own  searching  question  :  “  I 
tell  you  nay,  but  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  like¬ 
wise  perish.” 

VOL.  II. — 10 


218 


SERMONS. 


]N^ot  contented  with  this  startling  contradiction  of 
their  secret  thoughts,  he  cites  another  case  himself, 
also  perhaps  of  recent  date,  and  vastly  stronger  in 
appearance  as  a  ground  for  the  opinion  which  he 
meant  to  demolish,  because  one  in  which  the  hand  of 
God  himself  was  visible  directly,  without  any  inter¬ 
vention  of  a  wicked  human  instrument,  or  any  con¬ 
sequent  confusion  of  this  agent’s  sin  with  God’s  most 
righteous  retributions  ;  a  case  in  which  a  number  of 
lives  had  been  lost  by  a  sudden  providential  casualty  : 

Or  those  eighteen,  upon  whom  the  tower  in  Siloam 
fell  and  slew  them,  think  ye  that  they  were  sinners 
above  all  men  dwelling  in  J erusalem  ?  ”  Having  put  the 
first  unanswerable  question  to  his  Galilean  hearers,  he 
puts  this  to  the  Jerusalemites,  still  more  self-righteous, 
and  still  more  apt,  it  may  be,  to  imagine,  that  in  this 
case,  if  in  any,  God  had  drawn  a  broad  line  of  dis¬ 
tinction  between  them  and  these  atrocious  sinners, 
whom  he  not  only  suftered  to  perish,  but  destroyed, 
as  it  were,  with  his  own  hand.  Yes,  they  might  have 
said,  if  they  had  spoken  their  whole  heart,  we  do 
think  that  they  were  more  guilty  than  the  rest  of  us, 
and  we  think  so  on  the  authority  of  God  himself,  who 
has  spared  us,  even  in  the  act  of  destroying  them. 
But  whether  uttered  or  suppressed,  this  interpretation 
of  God’s  judgments  meets  the  same  indignant  contra¬ 
diction  as  before,  and  the  same  unexpected  introver¬ 
sion  of  the  sentence  upon  those  who  had  pronounced 
it :  tell  you  nay,  but  except  ye  repent,” — yes,  you, 

of  Jerusalem,  no  less  than  these  despised  Galileans, 
except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.” 

There  is  something  so  paradoxical  in  this  repeated 


LUKE  13,  3. 


219 


contradiction  of  what  seems  to  be  a  plausible  and 
pions  sentiment,  that  a  correct  apprehension  of  the 
latent  error,  and  of  the  truth  whicli  our  Saviour,  with 
such  emphasis,  opposes  to  it,  may  serve  not  only  to 
vindicate  the  truth  of  this  authoritative  declaration, 
and  its  perfect  consistency  with  all  God’s  attributes 
and  all  his  acts,  so  far  as  either  can  be  known  by  us, 
but  also  to  correct  the  same  insidious  error,  if  it 
should  make  its  way  into  our  own  minds,  or  should 
now  be  lying  hid  there  under  some  specious  pretext 
of  hostility  to  sin,  and  zeal  for  God’s  vindicatory 
j  ustice. 

1.  That  suffering  is  a  penal  consequence  of  sin, 
seems  to  be  a  dictate  of  reason  and  conscience,  no  less 
than  of  revelation.  At  all  events,  it  is  a  doctrine  of 
religion  which,  above  most  others,  seems  to  command 
the  prompt  assent  of  the  human  understanding.  They 
who  acknowledge  the  existence  of  a  God  at  all,  have 
probably  no  impressions  of  his  power  or  his  justice 
stroiif^-er  than  those  which  are  associated  with  his 
providential  strokes,  and  more  especially  with  deatli 
as  the  universal  penalty.  War,  pestilence,  and  fam¬ 
ine,  are  regarded  by  the  common  sense  of  men,  not 
merely  as  misfortunes  but  as  punishments,  and  noth- 

I  ing  more  effectually  rouses  in  the  multitude  the  recol¬ 
lection  of  their  sins  than  the  report  or  the  approach 
of  these  providential  scourges.  In  all  this,  the  pop- 

!  ular  judgment  is  according  to  the  truth.  The  miser- 

1  ies  which  wo  witness  or  experience  are  but  so  many 

j  memorials 

I  “  Of  man’s  first  disobedience  and  the  fruit 

i 

]  Of  that  forbidden  tree,  whose  mortal  taste 

I 

i  Brought  death  into  the  world  and  all  our  woe. 

I 

,i 


220 


SERMONS. 


In  the  recognition  and  assertion  of  this  great  truth, 
there  is  no  fear  of  excess.  The  fact  is  one  which  can¬ 
not  he  exaggerated,  and  ought  not  to  he  extenuated, 
innch  less  dissembled  or  denied.  Sin  is  the  nltimate 
and  nniversal  source  of  sorrow,  and  all  God’s  provi¬ 
dential  visitations  are  nneqnivocal  signs  of  his  dis¬ 
pleasure  against  sin. 

2.  What  is  thus  true  in  the  aggregate  ninst  needs 
be  trite  in  detail.  If  all  the  suffering  in  the  world 
proceeds  from  sin,  then  eveiy  Divine  judgment  in 
particular  must  flow  from  the  same  source.  Hot 
only  in  reference  to  the  sum  total  of  man’s  sufferings, 
but  in  reference  to  every  pang,  it  may  be  said,  with 
truth  and  certainty,  that  sin  has  been  at  work,  that 
this  is  the  natural  and  necessary  consecpience  of  sin, 
and  that  not  of  sin  as  an  abstraction,  nor  of  sin  as  the 
common  undivided  heritage  of  Adam’s  offspring,  but 
of  sin  as  the  property  and  character  of  individual  re¬ 
sponsible  agents.  In  other  words,  wherever  we  see 
suffering,  we  see  a  proof,  not  only  that  there  is  sin 
somewhere,  to  account  for  and  to  justify  that  suffer¬ 
ing,  but  that  the  individual  sufferer  is  a  sinner.  The 
only  exception  to  this  general  statement,  which  the 
world  has  ever  seen,  in  reality  confirms  it.  Christ 
was  beyond  comparison  the  greatest  sufferer  of  onr 
race  ;  yet  Christ  was  “  holy,  harmless,  nndefiled,  and 
separate  from  sinners.”  But  his  sufferings  were  vi¬ 
carious  ;  he  bore  our  griefs  and  carried  our  sorrows  ; 
he  was  wounded  for  our  transgressions,  he  was  bruised 
for  our  iniquities.  This,  which  is  one  of  the  great 
fundamental  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  while  it  shows, 
on  the  oiie  hand,  the  indissoluble  connection  between 


LUKE  13,  3. 


221 


sill  and  suffering,  sliows,  on  tlie  other,  how  the  great¬ 
est  sufferer  could  he  free  from  sin,  although  in  every 
case  but  this,  the  least  sufferer  must  be  a  sinner.  "We 
need  feel  no  hesitation,  therefore,  in  asserting  either 
of  these  two  propositions :  1,  that  all  suffering  is  the 
fruit  of  sin ;  and,  2,  that  every  sufferer  is  a  sinner. 

3.  And  yet  it  cannot  be  denied,  that  there  is  some- 
tliing  in  this  doctrine  thus  presented,  against  which 
even  the  better  feelings  of  our  nature  are  disposed  to 
revolt.  This  is  especially  the  case  when  we  contem¬ 
plate  instances  of  aggravated  suffering  endured  by 
those  who  are  comparatively  innocent,  and  still  more 
when  the  sufferings  of  such  are  immediately  occa¬ 
sioned  by  the  wickedness  of  others.  Can  it  be  that 
the  dying  agonies  of  one  who  falls  a  victim  to  the 
murderous  revenge  or  the  reckless  cupidity  of  others, 
are  to  be  regarded  as  the  punishment  of  sin  ?  Against 
this  representation  all  our  human  sympathies  and 
charities  ajipear  to  cry  aloud,  and  so  intense  is  the 
reaction  in  some  minds,  that  they  will  not  even  listen 
to  the  explanation,  which  may  nevertheless  be  given, 
and  which  I  will  endeavour  to  give  now. 

4.  This  feeling  of  repugnance  to  the  doctrine  now 
in  question,  though  it  springs  from  a  native  sense  of 
justice,  is  mistaken  in  its  application,  because  founded 
upon  two  misapprehensions.  In  the  first  place,  it  as¬ 
sumes  that  the  sufferings,  in  the  case  supposed,  are 
said  to  be  the  penal  fruits  of  sin  committed  against 
man,  and  more  especially  against  tlie  authors  of  the 
suflerings  endured.  Hence  we  are  all  accustomed  to 
enhance  the  guilt  of  murder,  in  some  cases,  by  con¬ 
trasting  the  virtues  of  the  victim  with  the  crimes  of 


222 


SERMONS. 


the  destroyer.  And  in  sncli  a  state  of  mind,  not  one 
of  us,  perhaps,  would  be  prepared  to  hear  with  pa¬ 
tience,  that  the  murder  was  a  righteous  recompense 
of  sin.  But  why?  Because  at  such  a  moment,  we 
can  look  no  further  than  the  proximate  immediate 
agent,  and  to  think  of  him  as  having  any  claim  or 
right  of  punishment  is  certainly  preposterous.  But 
when  the  excitement  is  allayed,  and  we  have  lost 
sight  of  the  worthless  and  justly  abhorred  instrument, 
we  may  perhaps  be  able  to  perceive  that  in  the  pres¬ 
ence  of  an  infinitely  holy  God,  the  most  innocent  vic¬ 
tim  of  man’s  cruelty  is  in  himself  deserving  only  of 
displeasure,  or  at  least  that  no  difficulties  hang  about 
that  supposition  except  such  as  belong  to  the  whole 
subject  of  sin  and  punishment. 

5.  If  any  does  remain,  it  probably  has  reference 
to  the  seeming  disproportion  of  the  punishment  to  that 
of  others,  or  to  any  particular  offence  with  which  the 
sufferer  seems  chargeable  in  comparison  with  others. 
Here  again  the  feeling  is  not  only  natural,  but  in  its 
principle  a  just  one,  yet  entirely  misdirected  under 
the  influence  of  a  second  error  wfith  respect  to  the 
doctrine  of  the  Bible  on  the  subject.  The  miscon¬ 
ception  lies  in  the  confounding  of  the  general  propo¬ 
sitions,  which  have  been  already  stated  and  affirmed ; 
1,  that  all  suflering  is  the  penal  consequence  of  sin, 
and  2,  that  every  individual  sufferer  is  a  sinner,  with 
the  very  different  proposition,  that  every  providential 
stroke  is  a  specific  punishment  of  some  specific  sin, 
or  that  the  measure  of  men’s  sufferings  here  is  in 
exact  proportion  to  their  guilt,  so  that  they  upon 
whom  extraordinary  judgments  seem  to  fall  are  there- 


liUKE  13,  3. 


223 


bv  proved  to  be  extraordinary  sinners.  These  doc¬ 
trines  are  not  only  quite  distinct  from  those  before 
propounded ;  they  do  not  even  follow  from  them  as 
logical  deductions.  They  may  be  consistently,  and 
actnally  are  repudiated  and  abjured  by  those  who 
steadfastly  maintain,  that  all  suffering  is  from  sin, 
and  that  all  sufferers  are  sinners.  The  same  mistake 
is  palpable  enough,  and  therefore  easily  avoided,  when 
confined  to  matters  of  the  present  life,  or  questions  of 
mere  temporal  morality.  If  men  would  be  as  rational 
and  candid  in  their  judgments  of  spiritual  matters, 
as  they  often  are  in  those  pertaining  to  this  world, 
there  would  be  less  disposition  to  reject  important 
doctrines  of  religion  on  account  of  tlieir  abuse  or  the 
unauthorised  additions  made  to  them. 

6.  The  effect  of  this  last  error  is  the  more  per¬ 
nicious,  and  the  cure  of  it  more  difficult,  because  the 
doctrine  which  it  falsely  imputes  to  Christianity  is 
really  maintained  by  many  Christians,  as  well  as  by 
many  who  make  no  such  professions.  There  has  in  all 
ages  been  a  disposition  to  regard  remarkable  calam¬ 
ities  as  providential  judgments  on  particular  offences, 
and  a  morbid  curiosity  in  tracing  the  connection  be¬ 
tween  such  crimes  and  such  punishments.  The  exist¬ 
ence  of  such*  a  disposition  in  the  human  heart,  and 
the  plausibility  with  which  it  can  defend  itself  by  a 
confident  appeal  to  undisputed  facts,  and  to  undis¬ 
puted  principles  of  morals,  have  never  been  more 
forcibly  and  fully  set  forth,  or  more  pointedly  and 
solemnly  rebuked  than  in  the  book  of  J ob,  one  grand 
design  of  which,  to  say  the  least,  is  to  expose  this 
error  and  refute  it.  That  it  still  existed  in  the  minds 


224 


SERMONS. 


of  those  to  wliom  our  Lord  addressed  the  language  of 
the  text  is  obvious  enough,  and  its  continued  existence 
at  the  present  day  is,  alas,  no  less  so.  It  may  not  now 
be  pushed  to  the  extreme  reached  by  some  of  Christ’s 
discijDles,  when  they  asked  him,  saying,  Lord,  who 
did  sin,  this  man  or  his  parents,  that  he  was  born 
blind  ?  ”  But  it  exists  and  operates,  and  often  unex¬ 
pectedly  betrays  itself  in  a  censorious  attempt  to  trace 
the  sufferings  of  others  back  to  certain  causes,  often 
more  offensive  in  the  sight  of  human  censors  and  in¬ 
quisitors  than  in  that  of  a  heart-searching  God.  But 
even  where  the  sin  charged  is  indeed  a  sin,  its  ex¬ 
istence  is  hastily  inferred  from  the  supposed  judg¬ 
ment,  without  any  other  evidence  whatever.  This 
uncharitable  tendency  can  be  cured  only  by  the  cor¬ 
rection  of  the  error  which  produces  it. 

Y.  But  in  attempting  this  correction,  there  is  need 
of  extreme  caution,  as  in  ail  other  cases,  where  an 
error  has  arisen,  not  from  sheer  invention  or  denial  of 
the  truth,  but  from  exaggeration,  or  perversion,  or 
abuse  of  truth  itself.  And  the  more  certain  and  im¬ 
portant  the  truth  thus  mistaken  or  abused,  the  more 
imperative  the  need  of  caution,  lest,  while  we  gather 
up  the  tares,  we  root  up  also  the  wheat  with  them. 
In  the  case  before  us  this  necessity  has  not  been  al¬ 
ways  practically  recognized  by  those  who  have  under¬ 
taken  to  vindicate  the  ways  of  God  to  man,  but  who, 
in  consequence  of  this  neglect,  have  verified  the  pro¬ 
verb,  that  the  remedy  is  sometimes  worse  than  the 
disease.  They,  for  example,  wlio  would  guard  against 
the  error  now  in  question  by  denying  a  particular 
providence,  are  not  only  chargeable  with  wilfully 


LUKE  155,  S. 


225 


receding  from  tlie  ground  of  Christianity  to  that  of 
heathenism,  nay  from  the  higher  ground  of  Plato  to 
the  lower  ground  of  Epicurus,  hut  with  making  Christ 
himself  guilty  of  the  grossest  inconsistency,  forgetful 
that  the  same  authoritatiye  voice  w^hich  twice  said,  in 
the  case  before  us,  “  I  tell  you  nay,”  had  expressly 
taught  in  the  foregoing  context,  that  without  God’s 
knowledge  and  his  leave,  not  a  hair  falls,  or  a  lily 
withers,  or  a  sparrow  dies.  This  is  one  of  those  cases 
in  which  the  simplest  and  apparently  most  childlike 
teachino^s  of  reli2:ion  coincide  with  the  ultimate  attain- 
ments  of  philosophy,  since  no  reasoning  or  speculation 
on  this  subject  has  availed  to  get  beyond  the  grand 
yet  elementary  conclusion,  that  if  there  is  a  provi¬ 
dence  at  all  it  must  be  universal,  and  that  no  distinc¬ 
tion  can  be  drawn  between  the  great  and  small  as 
objects  of  God’s  notice  and  his  care,  without  infring¬ 
ing  on  the  absolute  perfection  of  his  nature  by  re¬ 
stricting  his  omniscience,  or  at  least  by  applying  to 
it  terms  and  conditions  which  have  no  propriety  or 
trutli  except  in  reference  to  our  own  finite  nature  and 
the  necessary  limitations  of  our  knowledge. 

8.  Another  false  and  dangerous  corrective  of  the 
error  now  in  question — still  more  insidious  because 
it  approximates  more  nearly  to  the  truth — is  that 
which,  admitting  a  particular  providence  and  a  gen¬ 
eral  connection  between  sin  and  suffering,  denies  any 
penal  or  judicial  connection  between  particular  provi¬ 
dential  strokes  and  the  sins  of  the  individual  sufferer. 
This  doctrine,  when  fairly  stated,  is  opposed,  not  only 
to  tlie  word  of  God,  but  to  experience  and  the  com¬ 
mon  sense  of  mankind.  To  deny  that  the  bloated 

VOL.  II. — 10'^ 


226 


SERMONS. 


countenance,  the  trembling  limbs,  the  decaying  mind; 
the  wasted  fortune,  and  the  blasted  fame  of  the  drunk 
ard  or  the  libertine,  are  penally  consequences  of  sin, 
of  his  own  sin,  of  his  own  besetting,  reigning,  darling 
sin,  would  be  ridiculous,  and  all  men  would  regard  it 
in  that  light.  And  the  same  thing  is  true  of  some 
extraordinary  providences.  When  a  bold  blasphemer, 
in  the  act  of  imprecating  vengeance  on  his  own  head, 
falls  down  dead  before  ns,  it  would  argue  an  extreme 
of  philosophical  caution  or  of  skeptical  reserve,  to 
hesitate  to  say,  as  the  magicians  said  to  Pharaoh, 
Avhen  they  found  themselves  confronted  with  effects 
beyond  the  capacity  of  any  human  or  created  power 
— This  is  the  finger  of  God.’’  It  was  conceivable 
indeed  that  even  this  might  be  a  magical  illusion, 
near  akin  though  far  superior  to  their  own,  and  yet 
the  evidence  appears  to  have  convinced  them.  So  in 
the  case  supposed,  it  is  conceivable  and  possible,  that 
even  such  surprising  correspondences  may  have  some 
other  cause  than  that  wdiich  forces  itself  on  the  mind 
of  every  spectator  ;  but  it  does  so  force  itself,  and  does 
amount,  in  the  vast  majority  of  cases,  to  a  conclusive 
proof  of  a  direct  judicial  act  of  God’s  vindicatory  jus¬ 
tice  on  a  flagrant  and  notorious  sin. 

How  any  one  such  case  would  be  sufScient  to  re¬ 
fute  the  doctrine  that  men’s  sufferings  have  nothing 
to  do  with  their  personal  sins,  in  the  way  of  penal 
retribution.  What  then,  it  may  be  asked,  is  the  error, 
theoretical  or  practical,  which  Christ  condemns,  and 
against  which  we  are  warned  to  be  forever  on  our 
guard  ?  If  it  be  true,  not  only  that  suffering  in  gen¬ 
eral  is  the  fruit  of  sin,  and  that  every  individual  suf- 


LUKE  13,  3. 


227 


ferer  is  a  sinner,  but  that  particular  sufferings  may 
be  recognized  as  penal  retributions  of  particular  sins, 
where  is  the  liarm  in  tracing  the  connection,  for  our 
edification,  or  for  that  of  others  ?  The  answer  to  this 
question  is  a  prompt  and  simple  one,  and  may  be 
stated  under  three  particulars : 

The  first  is,  that  even  if  the  general  rule  be  granted, 
the  exceptions  are  so  many  and  notorious  as  to  render 
it  inapplicable  as  a  standard  or  criterion  of  character. 
A  rule  which,  if  applied  with  rigid  uniformity,  would 
directly  gainsay  tlie  Divine  decision  in  the  case  of  Job’s 
three  friends,  and  brand,  as  the  chief  of  sinners,  the 
glorious  company  of  the  Apostles,  the  goodly  fellow¬ 
ship  of  the  prophets,  the  noble  army  of  martyrs,  and 
a  countless  host  of  less  conspicuous  but  no  less  patient 
sufferers,  unknown  perhaps  to  man,  but  precious  in 
the  sight  of  God,  must  needs  be  a  jirecarious  and  un¬ 
certain  test.  Tiie  second  answer  is,  that  this  is  a  mat¬ 
ter  which  God  has  not  subjected  to  our  scrutiny. 
Although,  in  certain  cases,  both  of  common  experience 
and  extraordinary  judgment,  he  has  lifted  the  veil 
from  the  judicial  import  of  his  dispensations,  as  a 
timely  warning  to  presumptuous  sinners,  it  is  still 
true,  as  a  general  fact,  that  this  mysterious  connec¬ 
tion  between  causes  and  efiects,  is  not  among  the 
things  which  may  lawfully  and  usefully  excite  our 
curiosity,  but  rather  among  those  of  which  the  Scrip¬ 
ture  says,  Secret  things  belong  unto  the  Lord  our 
God.”  The  final  cause  of  this  reserve  may  perhaps 
be  found  in  the  third  reason  to  be  stated  for  abstain¬ 
ing  from  such  inquisitions,  to  wit,  that  their  tendency, 
as  shown  by  all  experience,  is  not  so  much  to  edify 


228 


SERMONS. 


as  to  subvert ;  not  so  much  to  wean  from  sin,  as  to 
harden  in  self-rigliteonsness,  by  letting  this  censorship 
of  other  men’s  sins  and  other  men’s  punishment,  divert 
our  thoughts  entirely  from  those  which  loe  commit,  oi 
those  which  we  are  to  experience. 

This  brings  us  to  the  lesson  taught  directly  in  the 
text  and  context,  as  to  the  only  safe  and  elfectual  cor¬ 
rective  of  the  error  which  we  have  been  considering. 
For  even  after  men  have  been  convinced  that  this 
censorious  inquisition  into  the  sin  and  punishment  of 
others  is  not  only  unavailing  but  pernicious,  they  may 
still  be  drawn  to  it  by  natural  dispositions  which 
they  cannot  resist  or  overcome.  To  counteract  this 
wayward  tendency,  our  Saviour  here  employs  the 
only  efficacious  method.  Without  diverting  the  at¬ 
tention  of  his  hearers  from  the  great  humiliating 
truth,  that  suffering  is  the  fruit  and  penal  consequence 
of  sin,  he  shows  them,  with  consummate  wisdom,  that 
it  admits  an  application  much  more  certain  and  more 
salutary  than  the  one  which  they  were  accustomed  or 
disposed  to  make  of  it.  Their  favourite  inference 
from  the  doctrine  was,  that  those  wdio  suffered  more 
were  greater  sinners  than  themselves.  The  one  which 
our  Lord  teaches  them  to  draw,  is,  that  if  some  mem¬ 
bers  of  the  human  family  were  thus  overtaken  in 
their  sins  and  visited  wdth  condign  punishment,  the 
same  perdition  must  await  the  rest,  however  long  de¬ 
ferred  by  the  divine  forbearance.  Instead  of  valuing 
themselves,  because  they  had  escaped  thus  far,  they 
ought  rather  to  assure  themselves  that  they  should 
not  escape  forever.  The  judgments  which  they  saw 
descend  on  others,  did  not  prove  them  to  be  greater 


LUKE  13,  3. 


229 


sinners  than  themselves ;  they  only  proved  that  the 
guilt,  of  which  they  were  themselves  partakers, 
was  entitled  and  exposed  to  the  divine  wrath,  and 
*that  the  course  of  wisdom,  therefore,  was  to  flee  from 
the  wrath  to  come,  instead  of  fancying  themselves  to 
be  beyond  its  reach  or  able  to  resist  it. 

This  is  only  one  out  of  a  multitude  of  instances,  in 
which  our  Saviour’s  divine  wisdom  is  evinced  by  the 
facility  and  power  with  which  he  converts  a  curious, 
or  even  an  insidious  question,  into  an  engine  of  con¬ 
viction.  On  this  very  same  occasion,  when  a  person 
in  the  multitude  requested  him  to  act  as  an  umpire 
between  him  and  his  brother,  in  a  matter  of  inheri¬ 
tance,  our  Lord  took  occasion,  from  the  untimely  and 
irrelevant  request,  to  unmask  and  reprove  the  cove¬ 
tousness  latent  under  what  might  seem  to  be  a  lawful 
and  commendable  assertion  of  one’s  legal  rights.  A 
little  afterwards,  when  Peter  asked  him  whether  his 
injunctions  of  w'atchfulness  were  meant  for  all  be¬ 
lievers  or  for  those  who  held  official  station — perhaps 
not  without  some  complacent  reference  to  his  own 
230sition — instead  of  a  direct  reply,  our  Lord  describes, 
in  clear  though  figurative  terms,  the  character  of  a 
faithful  office-bearer  in  his  church,  leaving  the  appli¬ 
cation  to  the  consciences  of  those  who  heard  him. 
So  in  the  case  more  immediately  before  us,  instead  of 
expressing  indignation  or  astonishment  at  Pilate’s 
cruelty,  and  far  from  conniving  at  tlie  secret  inferen¬ 
ces  drawn  bv  those  around  him  from  this  atrocious 
act,  and  the  casualty  mentioned  with  it — to  the  dis¬ 
advantage  of  the  victims  as  compared  with  them¬ 
selves — he  teaches  them  to  look  at  home — to  tremble 


230 


SERMONS. 


for  thomselves — to  cease  from  all  invidious  specula¬ 
tion  on  tlie  magnitude  of  other  men’s  offences — as  de¬ 
termined  by  the  weight  of  their  misfortunes  or  the 
manner  of  tlieir  death — and  look  towards  the  similar- 
perdition  which,  in  one  form  or  another,  sooner  or 
later,  awaited  all  involved  in  the  same  general  con¬ 
demnation. 

Another  characteristic  of  our  Saviour’s  teaching, 
here  exemplified,  is,  that  even  in  his  most  severe  de¬ 
nunciations,  he  is  far  from  shutting  up  the  door  of 
mercy.  By  the  very  act  of  holding  up  repentance, 
or  a  thorough  change  of  mind,  and  character,  and 
life,  as  an  essential,  indispensable  condition  of  escape 
from  the  destruction  which  he  threatens,  he  reveals 
the  glorious  and  blessed  truth,  that  such  escape  is 
possible.  The  promise,  repent,  and  ye  shall  live,” 
is  wrapped  up  in  the  threatening,  “  Except  ye  repent, 
ye  shall  all  likewise  perish.” 

Here  then  is  the  use  which  this  instructive  pas¬ 
sage  teaches  us  to  make  of  the  calamities  of  others, 
whether  those  which  fall  on  individuals  in  private 
life,  or  those  which  strike  whole  classes  and  commu¬ 
nities.  The  whole  secret  may  be  told  in  one  short 
word,  Bepent.  As  the  goodness  of  God  to  ourselves 
ought  to  lead  us  to  repentance,  so  ought  his  judg¬ 
ments  upon  others  to  produce  the  same  effect.  Every 
such  judgment  should  remind  us  that  our  own  escape 
is  but  a  respite — that  if  they  who  perish  in  our  sight 
were  guilty,  we  are  guilty  too,  and  that  unless  we  re¬ 
pent  we  must  all  likewise  perish. 

This  means  something  more  than  perish  also ;  it 
means  perish  in  like  manner ;  if  not  with  the  same 


LUKE  13,  3. 


231 


external  tokens  of  perdition,  with  a  ruin  no  less.real, 
no  less  fearful,  no  less  hnal.  As  addressed  by  Christ 
to  the  contemporary  Jews,  the  words  had  a  terrible 
significance,  which  they  were  not  prepared  to  com¬ 
prehend  or  to  appreciate,  but  which  received  a  fearful 
illustration  from  subsequent  events.  In  less  than  half 
a  century  from  the  date  of  this  solemn  admonition, 
the  atrocities  of  Pilate  and  the  casualty  of  Siloam 
were  to  be  repeated  on  a  scale  of  horrid  and  terrific 
grandeur.  The  blood  of  thousands,  in  the  frenzied 
desperation  of  intestine  strife,  was  mingled  with  their 
sacrifices,  not  by  Poman  swords,  but  by  their  own ; 
and,  as  the  eighteen  had  been  crushed  by  the  fall  of 
a  single  tower,  so  an  untold  multitude  were  to  lie  en¬ 
tombed  beneath  the  prostrate  walls  of  their  polluted 
temple. 

In  reference  to  these  points  of  resemblance,  the 
two  incidents  referred  to  in  the  context,  might  be  said 
to  typify  or  symbolize  the  national  catastrophe  which 
was  then  ajoproaching ;  and,  in  reference  to  the  points, 
Christ  might  say  to  those  who  heard  him,  as  represent¬ 
atives  of  Israel,  if  not  as  individuals,  Except  ye  re¬ 
pent,  ye  shall  all  hkewise  perish  ” — as  if  he  had  said. 
Except  ye  repent,  your  blood  shall  be  mingled  with 
your  sacrifices,  too  ;  you,  too,  shall  be  crushed  be¬ 
neath  the  towers  of  your  temple ;  even  in  reference  to 
the  mode  of  your  destruction,  ye  shall  all  likewise 
perish  !  ” 

But,  even  leaving  out  of  view  these  outward  coin¬ 
cidences,  striking  as  they  are,  the  words  are  full  of  sol¬ 
emn  warning  and  instruction,  not  only  to  the  old  Jews, 
but  to  us,  upon  whom  these  ends  of  the  world  are  come. 


232 


SERMONS. 


They  give  a  tongue  and  an  articulate  utterance  to  e^ery 
signal  providence,  to  every  sudden  death,  to  every  open 
grave,  to  every  darkened  house,  to  every  scattered  for¬ 
tune,  to  every  blighted  reputation,  to  every  broken 
heart,  in  society  around  us.  They  command  us,  they 
entreat  us  to  withdraw  our  view  from  the  calamities  of 
others,  as  proofs  of  tlieir  iniquity,  and  to  view  them 
rather  as  memorials  of  our  own,  of  that  common  guilt 
to  which  these  manifold  distresses  owe  their  origin,  and 
in  which  we,  alas,  are  so  profoundly  and  so  ruinously 
implicated.  Oh,  my  hearers,  can  you  not  hear  all 
this,  as  it  wxre,  articulately  uttered  by  the  Providence 
of  God?  If  you  can,  then  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is 
saying,  just  as  really  and  solemnly  to  you  as  he  said 
to  those  around  him  eighteen  centuries  ago.  Think  ye 
that  this  or  that  man,  overtaken  in  his  sins,  and  swept 
away  by  some  terrific  judgment,  was  a  sinner  above 
all  that  dwell  in  hfew  York  or  America  ?  I  tell  you 
nay ;  I  tell  you  nay.”  You  are  yourself,  perhaps,  a 
greater  sinner ;  you  are  certainly  so  great  a  sinner 
that,  except  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish,” 
if  not  in  the  same  way  to  the  eyes  of  man,  yet  as 
really,  as  terribly,  as  hopelessly,  as  endlessly.  Why 
should  we  think  of  measuring  gradations  in  perdition, 
or  of  comforting  ourselves  that  we  are  not  so  bad  as 
others,  if  we  perish  after  all  ?  Oh,  my  friends,  to  per¬ 
ish  is  to  j)erish,  whether  as  the  chief  of  sinners,  or  as 
something  less.  The  circumstantial  differences  in  the 
fate  of  those  who  perish  will  be  lost  in  its"  essential 
identity.  And  even  the  momentary  consolation  of 
this  difference  may  be  denied  us.  When  you  hear  of 


LUKE  13,  3. 


233 


war,  of  famine,  and  of  pestilence,  as  wasting  other 
lands  or  other  portions  of  our  town,  yon  may,  perhaps, 
congratulate  yourself  that  these  desolating  scourges 
are  far  distant ;  or,  if  any  of  them  he  approaching, 
that  they  only  sweep  away  the  refuse  of  society,  and 
move  beyond  tlie  precincts  of  the  magic  circle  where 
you  are  yourself  intrenched.  Alas  !  so  thought  the 
people  of  Jerusalem  and  Galilee,  who  told  our  Saviour 
of  the  massacre  of  Pilate  and  the  downfall  of  the  tower 
in  Siloam.  You,  like  them,  may  he  mistaken — like 
them,  and  like  their  fathers,  in  the  days  of  Isaiah,  to 
whom  he  said,  ‘AVherefore  hear  the  word  of  the 
Lord  ye  scornful  men,  that  rule  this  people  which  is 
in  Jerusalem.  Because  ye  have  said,  we  have  made  a 
covenant  Avith  death,  and  with  hell  are  at  agreement ; 
Avhen  the  overflowing  scourge  shall  pass  through,  it 
shall  not  come  unto  us,  for  Ave  have  made  this  our 
refuge,  and  under  falsehood  have  Ave  hid  ourselves. 
Therefore,  thus  saith  the  Lord  God,  Behold  I  lay  in 
Zion  for  a  foundation  a  stone,  a  tried  stone,  a  precious 
corner-stone,  a  sure  foundation :  he  that  helieveth 
shall  not  make  haste.  Judgment  also  Avill  I  lay  to 
the  line  and  righteousness  to  the  plummet,  and  the 
hail  shall  SAveep  aAvay  the  refuge  of  lies,  and  the  Avaters 
shall  overfloAV  the  hiding-place.  And  your  covenant 
Avith  death  shall  he  annulled,  and  your  agreement 
Avith  hell  shall  not  stand  ;  Avhen  the  overfloAving  scourge 
shall  pass  through,  then  ye  shall  he  trodden  doAAui  by 
it,’’  &c.,  &c.  If  that  consumption  is  again  let  loose 
upon  the  earth,  and  if  it  has  a  voice,  methinks  I  hear 
it  saying  even  noAV  to  us.  Suppose  ye  that  they  Avho 


234 


SERMONS. 


died  in  Ireland  of  famine,  and  in  Mexico  of  battles, 
and  in  Asia,  Europe,  and  America  of  cholera,  were 
sinners  above  all  who  dwell  in  the  four  quarters  of 
the  earth  ?  I  tell  you  nay  ;  I  tell  you  nay ;  but  ex¬ 
cept  ye  repent,  ye  shall  all  likewise  perish  ! 


XIII. 


Isaiah  63,  8. — He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men. 

Theee  is  scarcely  any  tiling  more  characteristic  of 
the  masses  of  mankind,  than  the  facility  with  which 
they  can  he  roused  and  set  in  motion,  by  any  specious 
promise  to  improve  their  temporal  condition.  Even 
where  their  actual  state  is  not  one  of  extraordinary 
suffering,  nor  that  which  is  offered  in  its  place  pecu¬ 
liarly  attractive,  nor  the  means  by  which  it  is  pro- 
jiosed  to  accomplish  it  remarkably  appropriate  or  effi¬ 
cacious,  some  natural  jiropensity  to  change  still  ope¬ 
rates  in  favour  of  the  new  proposal,  and  vast  multi¬ 
tudes  are  instantly  jiervaded,  as  it  were,  by  a  galvanic 
influence,  entirely  disproportionate  to  the  visible  in¬ 
ducements,  and  apparently  independent  of  all  rational 
considerations. 

There  are  individuals,  and  even  classes  of  society, 
which  seem  to  remain  proof  against  this  popular  sus¬ 
ceptibility,  and  take  no  part  in  the  exciting  move¬ 
ments  which  it  generates.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 
there  are  cases,  still  more  numerous  and  marked, 
in  which  this  same  susceptibility  is  carried  to  a  length 
which  verges  on  insanity ;  and  this  extreme  may  fairly 
neutralize  or  cancel  that  already  mentioned,  so  as  to 


236 


SERMONS. 


leave  the  general  statement  still  emphatically  true, 

that  this  mobilitv  and  readiness  to  catch  at  new 

«/ 

schemes  for  improving  the  condition  of  society,  does 
really  belong  to  the  masses  of  mankind,  as  a  promb 
nent  feature  of  their  common  character.  I  speak  of 
the  masses,  not  in  any  invidious  or  unfavourable  sense, 
as  opposed  to  the  select  few  who  are  thought,  by 
themselves  or  others,  to  monopolize  refinement  and  in¬ 
telligence  ;  but  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  expression, 
as  denoting  great  numbers,  and  even  whole  commu¬ 
nities,  in  opposition  to  smaller  bodies,  and  still  more 
to  insulated  individuals.  For,  one  of  the  most  strik¬ 
ing  points  connected  with  the  general  fact  in  question, 
is  the  uniformity  with  which  it  may  be  verified,  upon 
the  largest  scale  of  observation  and  comparison.  iN^ot 
only  may  the  same  cause  be  seen  to  operate  in  a  vast 
aggregate  of  individual  cases,  but  the  actual  and  visi¬ 
ble  effects  which  it  produces,  are  of  a  social,  not  to 
say  a  national,  descrij)tion.  That  is  to  say,  the  move¬ 
ments  prompted  by  this  potent  and  mysterious  sj^ring 
in  man’s  constitution,  are  not  merely  personal,  or  lim¬ 
ited  to  small  organic  bodies,  but  the  movements  of 
societies,  communities,  or  nations,  by  a  common  im¬ 
pulse,  as  if  suddenly  endowed  with  a  rational  and 
moral  individuality. 

This  is  abundantly  verified  by  history,  which  ex¬ 
hibits,  when  surveyed  upon  a  large  scale,  nothing 
more  distinctly  marked,  or  more  impressive  to  the  eye 
of  the  intelligent  observer,  than  those  great  migra¬ 
tions,  the  unsettling  and  removal  of  whole  races,  which 
have  so  often  changed  the  whole  condition  of  society, 
and  given  complexion  to  all  after  times.  The  profane 


ISAIAH  53,  3. 


237 


traditions  of  the  old  world  are  unanimous,  amidst 
their  variations  as  to  all  things  else,  in  showing  us  the 
surface  of  primeval  history,  however  stagnant  and 
monotonous  in  general,  as  repeatedly  broken  and  en¬ 
livened  by  these  earth  slides  and  avalanches  of  mi¬ 
gration — the  abrupt,  and,  for  the  most  part,  unac¬ 
countable  removal  of  the  vast  living  masses  from 
their  original  or  immemorial  homes  to  new  ones. 

The  earliest  history  of  Greece  is  nothing  but  a 
complicated  maze  of  such  migrations  ;  and  the  same 
thing  may  be  said,  in  due  proportion,  of  the  infantile 
reminiscences  of  every  otliei*  ancient  people.  Even 
the  New  World  forms  no  exception  to  this  general 
statement.  According  to  the  Mexican  traditions,  the 
old  race  which  established  the  empire  overthrown  by 
Cortez,  had  been  wandering  eight  centuries  before  it 
settled  on  that  lofty  table-land.  With  all  allowance 
for  traditional  corruption  and  exaggeration,  there  is,  no 
doubt,  truth  in  these  accounts,  for  several  reasons,  and 
especially*because  they  substantially  agree  with  sacred 
history,  which  sets  before  us,  at  a  very  early  period, 
tlie  imposing  sight  of  a  great  human  current,  setting 
from  the  source  of  population,  in  the  central  valley  of 
South-western  Asia,  and  represents  even  God’s  pe¬ 
culiar  peojDle,  as  passing  through  a  series  of  remarka¬ 
ble  migrations. 

To  show  the  confirmation  of  the  same  thing,  in  the 
history  of  later  times,  I  need  only  allude  to  the  repeated 
inundations  of  the  Homan  empire  by  immense  and  over¬ 
whelming  floods  of  foreign  population  from  some  un- 
know]i  reservoir  or  fountain,  following  each  other  like 
successive  floods  of  lava,  from  repeated  eruptions  of 


238 


SERMONS. 


Yesiivilis  or  Etna,  sweeping  away  existing  institutions, 
and  almost  obliterating  every  ancient  landmark ;  so 
that  Europe,  as  it  now  is,  or  as  it  lately  was,  derives 
the  most  marked  peculiarities  of  its  condition,  from 
the  presence  and  the  power  of  these  so-called  Bar¬ 
barians. 

For  these  great  movements  of  the  human  race, 
historians  have  been  puzzled  to  account.  No  one  hy¬ 
pothesis  affords  an  adequate  solution.  •  That  the 
shifting  masses  have  been  started  by  the  want  of  room, 
or  of  subsistence,  or  by  a  definite  desire  of  better  set¬ 
tlements,  may  serve  to  explain  some  cases,  but  admit 
not  of  a  general  application,  since,  in  many  instances, 
the  current  of  migration  has  set  out  from  spacious 
regions,  rich  but  thinly  settled,  to  lands  already  over¬ 
stocked,  if  not  exhausted,  so  that  one  large  popula¬ 
tion  must  be  destroyed,  or  at  least  displaced,  to  make 
way  for  another  ;  while  in  many  cases  there  appears 
to  have  been  no  desire  of  settlement  at  all,  but  the 
masses,  once  set  in  motion,  have  continued  to  move 
on,  until  lost  in  the  surrounding  nations  or  destroyed 

bv  collision  with  bodies  harder  than  themselves. 

»/ 

This  difficulty  in  explaining  the  phenomenon  on 
any  ordinary  principles  of  action,  only  makes  it  more 
adapted  to  the  end  for  which  I  cite  it,  as  an  illustra¬ 
tion  of  the  restlessness  and  feverish  mobility  which  is 
characteristic  of  the  masses  of  mankind.  That  it  has 
not  been  destroyed  by  the  spread  of  civilization  or  of 
free  institutions,  we  may  satisfy  ourselves  by  simply 
looking  round  us — watching  the  movements — count¬ 
ing  the  pulsations  of  the  great  body  politic,  of  which 
we  form  a  paid.  Look  at  the  symptoms  of  suscepti- 


ISAIAH  53,  3. 


239 


bility  in  reference  to  the  three  great  worldly  interests 
of  health,  wealth,  and  freedom.  Observe  the  easy 
faith,  the  persuasible  docility  of  men  in  general  with 
respect  to  sovereign  remedies  for  some  or  all  diseases. 
See  how  the  popular  credulity  keeps  pace  with  tlie 
very  extravagance  of  the  pretensions,  so  that  men 
seem,  by  some  strange  inversion  of  the  ordinary  laws 
of  reasoning,  to  believe  and  be  convinced  in  inverse 
proportion  to  the  evidence  afforded. 

Look  again  at  the  avidity  with  which  new  fields 
of  speculation,  or  new  mines  of  wealth  are  seized  upon 
wdthout  a  disposition  to  contest  the  most  improbable 
assertions,  or  rather  with  a  perverse  disposition  to  lay 
hold  of  what  is  most  improbable  in  preference  to 
what  is  less  so,  and  to  make  a  mind  of  merit  of  be¬ 
lieving  it,  and  proving  the  sincerity  of  the  belief 
by  corresponding  action,  not  unfrequently  im'olving 
painful  sacrifice  of  actual  possession  or  of  cheering 
prospect  for  what  may  be  a  chimera,  for  what  must 
be  an  unsatisfying  portion.  All  this  is  exemplified 
among  ourselves. 

For  a  third  example,  we  must  look  abroad  at  those 
tumultuous  excitements  in  the  sea  of  nations,  from 
which  w^e,  through  the  divine  mercy,  dwell  apart,  as 
having  already  realized  the  vision  of  which  others 
dream.  Without  detracting  in  the  least  from  the 
value  of  the  object  aimed  at,  the  secure  enjoyment  of 
civil  and  religious  freedom,  it  is  impossible  to  look  at 
tliese  commotions  from  our  post  of  observation  without 
seeing  liow  the  rational  and  right  desire  of  liberty  is 
diluted  on  the  one  hand,  or  poisoned  on  the  other, 
with  childish  folly,  with  insane  illusion,  with  corrupt 


240 


SERMONS. 


ambition,  and,  above  all,  witb  an  utterly  irrational 
credulity,  a  blind  and  superstitions  faith  in  the  suf¬ 
ficiency  of  theories  and  systems  to  heal  wounds  which 
have  been  bleeding  and  discharging  nearly  six  thou¬ 
sand  years,  and  an  impious  reliance  upon  men,  and 
not  the  best  men,  to  effect  what  God  has  solemnly  re¬ 
served  as  an  inalienable,  incommunicable  part  of  his 
divine  prerogative. 

From  all  this  it  is  easy  to  infer  that  we  do  no  in¬ 
justice  to  ourselves  or  others,  when  we  represent  it  as 
a  characteristic  feature  of  man’s  actual  condition,  that 
he  is  predisposed  to  look  with  favour  upon  any  spe¬ 
cious  project  of  amelioration  that  his  bias,  in  relation 
to  such  schemes,  is  rather  to  credulity  than  scepticism, 
and  that  this  propensity  is  not  a  matter  of  prudential 
calculation,  but  proved  to  be  as  much  an  affection  of 
the  heart  as  of  the  head,  by  the  avidity  with  which 
the  inclinations  constantly  outrun  the  judgment,  and 
in  some  cases  wholly  supersede  its  action. 

It  would,  however,  be  at  variance  with  man’s 
nature  as  a  rational  being,  if  his  reason  were  com¬ 
pletely  set  at  naught,  or  even  held  in  abeyance,  by 
his  sense  of  want,  and  his  impatience  to  su^Dply  it. 
Wliile  the  restless  character  in  question  does  undoubt¬ 
edly  arise  from  an  instinctive  consciousness  of  some¬ 
thing  needed  to  apj)easo  the  cravings  of  unsatisfied 
desire,  and  a  vague  belief  in  the  reality  of  something 
more  desirable  than  any  thing  as  yet  attained,  it 
seems  impossible  that  man,  without  a  forfeiture  of 
that  which  raises  him  above  the  brutes,  should  system¬ 
atically  act  in  opposition  to  the  dictates  of  his  I’eason 
and  liis  better  judgment,  or  perversely  choose  wliat 


ISAIAH  53,  3. 


241 


he  cannot  but  see  to  be  least  entitled  to  his  choice. 
Passion,  and  appetite,  and  strong  delusion  inaj  ob¬ 
scure  his  perceptions  and  impede  the  action  of  his 
rational  powers,  but  cannot  utterly  destroy  them. 
And  accordingly  we  find  that,  in  relation  to  these 
very  schemes  and  hopes  of  temporal  advancement, 
there  is  a  vast  expenditure  of  cunning  and  sagacity 
in  order  to  secure  the  advantage  and  to  baffle  compe¬ 
tition.  It  might  therefore  be  expected  from  analogy, 
tliat  the  influence  exerted  upon  men  by  offers  to 
ameliorate  their  actual  condition  would  bear  some 
proportion  to  the  greatness  of  the  evils  which  they 
actually  suffer,  to  the  fitness  and  efficacy  of  the  means 
employed  to  bring  about  a  change,  and  to  the  value 
of  the  positive  advantages  bestowed  or  promised. 

Seeing  how  credulous  men  are,  how  ready  to  be¬ 
lieve  and  act  on  the  authority  of  questionable  ev¬ 
idence,  and  under  the  control  of  interested  guides, 
provided  there  is  any  possibility  of  bettering  their 
condition  after  all,  it  might  be  supposed  that  this 
facility  of  faith  and  action,  this  promptness  to  believe, 
and  this  eagerness  to  act  on  the  belief,  would  rise 
with  the  clearness  of  the  evidence  afforded,  and  the 
autliority  l)y  which  the  movement  has  been  sanctioned 
or  required.  And,  as  the  strongest  case  conceivable, 
it  might  have  been  expected,  with  the  highst  antece¬ 
dent  probability,  that  if  the  prospect,  opened  to  man¬ 
kind  or  any  portion  of  the  race,  was  that  of  complete 
deliverance  from  the  worst  of  evils  by  the  use  of  means 
infallibly  effective,  and  if  they  were  summoned  and 
encouraged  to  the  use  of  these  by  an  authority  alike 
VOL.  II. — 11 


242 


SERMONS. 


incapable  of  error  and  deception:  I  say,  in  such  a 
case  as  I  have  jnst  supposed,  it  might  well  have  been 
inferred  from  all  analogy,  that  the  restless  disposition 
of  our  race  to  better  its  condition,  and  the  readiness 
with  which  it  is  convinced  that  such  amelioration  is 
attainable,  would  operate  at  once,  without  restraint, 
and  with  complete  unqualified  effect  in  the  produc¬ 
tion  of  the  change  proposed. 

With  this  antecedent  probability  let  us  now  com¬ 
pare  the  fact  as  attested  by  the  most  authentic  ev¬ 
idence.  The  key  to  history,  both  sacred  and  profane, 
is  furnished  by  the  fact  that,  after  man  had  fallen 
through  the  infiuence  of  evil  spirits,  and  God  had  de¬ 
termined  to  restore  him  by  the  gift  of  his  own  Son  and 
Spirit,  he  foretold  to  our  first  parents,  or  rather  in 
their  presence  to  the  great  seducer,  that  there  was  to 
be  a  protracted  contest  between  two  antagonistic  races, 
called  in  the  prophecy  the  seed  of  the  serpent  and  the. 
seed  of  the  woman  ;  a  warfare  full  of  fluctuations  and 
reverses,  but  ultimately  tending  to  the  triumph  of  the 
cause  of  truth,  and  righteousness,  and  mercy. 

This  prospective  division  of  mankind  into  two 
great  parties  gives  complexion  to  all  history,  and  may 
be  traced  distinctly  from  the  date  of  the  prediction  to 
the  end  of  time.  The  first  visible  triumph  of  the  good 
cause  was  reserved  for  the  appearance  of  its  champion 
upon  earth,  when  it  was  symbolized  and  really  begun 
by  victories  openly  achieved  over  the  adverse  powers 
of  darkness.  To  prepare  for  his  apjDearance,  the  ex¬ 
plicit  revelation  of  God’s  will  was  limited  for  ages  to 
a  single  race,  and  every  thing  in  their  condition  was 
so  ordered  as  to  excite,  in  the  highest  possible  degree, 


ISAIAH  53,  S.  .  243 

the  sense  of  want  and  the  correlative  desire  of  some¬ 
thing  to  supply  it. 

As  the  time  for  the  fulfilment  of  the  promise  drew 
near,  this  restless  expectation  reached  its  height.  From 
the  Jews  it  passed  over  to  the  Gentiles,  where  it  seems 
to  have  combined  with  a  collateral  tradition,  reaching 
back  to  the  first  periods  of  human  history,  and  both 
together  generating  in  the  palmiest  days  of  Roman 
domination,  a  pervading  apprehension  of  some  great 
event  or  personage  as  near  at  hand  :  a  state  of  feeling 
attested  both  by  Jewish  and  classical  historians.  This 
general  condition  of  the  public  mind  throughout  the 
Roman  empire,  at  the  very  acme  of  its  greatness,  and 
the  widest  sweep  of  its  victorious  yet  pacific  sway, 
was  nothing  more  than  an  extraordinary  and  simul¬ 
taneous  exhibition  of  those  same  uneasy  movements 
of  the  mind  and  will  which  we  have  seen  to  be  ex- 
emjfiified,  in  more  irregular  and  insulated  forms, 
throughout  all  nations  and  in  every  period  of  liistory. 
It  was  the  innate  consciousness  of  want,  and  the  ir¬ 
repressible  desire  of  something  better  and  yet  un¬ 
possessed,  subjected  to  new  stimulants,  and  brought, 
by  providential  means,  to  bear  upon  the  great  scheme 
of  human  renovation  and  advancement  which  was 
about  to  be  unrolled  by  the  hand  of  God  himself. 

This  scheme  possessed  in  the  highest  degree  every 
thing  which  we  have  seen  to  bo  required  as  passports 
to  men’s  confidence.  The  evil  which  it  undertook  to 

1 

cure  was  the  greatest  in  itself,  and  the  cause  of  every 
other  ;  the  moans  such  as  only  the  Divine  compassion 
I  could  have  ])rought  to  bear  upon  the  end  proposed ; 
i  and  this  end,  far  from  being  merely  negative,  or  lim- 


244 


SERMONS. 


ited  to  freedom  from  existing  evils,  comprehended  the 
experience  and  possession  of  the  highest  good  con¬ 
ceivable,  both  natural  and  moral.  Here  then  was  a 
case  in  which  that  native  impulse  might  have  been 
expected  to  have  full  scope  and  activity. 

If  left  to  conjecture,  or  to  reason  from  analogy, 
how  natural  and  easy  to  imagine  the  effect  of  this  stu¬ 
pendous  revelation  on  the  hearts  and  lives  of  the 
expectant  nations.  As  all  eyes  had,  by  some  mys¬ 
terious  influence,  been  turned  towards  the  S23ot  where 
the  deliverer  of  mankind  was  to  appear,  and  the  great 
men  and  wise  men  of  the  world,  no  less  than  the  vast 
mixed  multitude  around  them,  held  their  breath,  half 
in  liope  and  half  in  dread  of  the  event,  it  might  have 
been  imagined  that  when  He,  the  incarnate  Son  of 
God,  and  yet  the  man  of  sorrows  for  our  sake,  rose 
on  the  view  of  this  vast  amphitheatre  of  nations,  not 
as  a  gladiator  in  the  arena  of  Y espasian’s  matchless 
structure,  for  the  amusement  of  the  world,  but  for  its 
ransom,  for  its  rescue  from  the  greatest  of  all  evils, 
and  indeed  from  all  the  evils  that  had  stained  or 
crushed  it  since  the  first  sin  was  committed — the  won¬ 
der,  gratitude,  and  joy  of  the  spectators  would  have 
found  vent,  not  in  noisy  acclamations,  not  in  silent 
and  inactive  tears,  but  in  a  mighty  simultaneous  rush 
of  nations  towards  the  cross,  and  the  gusliing  life¬ 
spring  whicli  flowed  from  it — a  unanimous,  enthusias¬ 
tic  self-appropriation  of  this  heaven-descended  panacea 
for  all  pains,  this  inexhaustible  supply  of  all  necessi¬ 
ties,  tliis  talisman  of  entrance  to  eternal  glory,  com¬ 
prehending  in  itself  all  the  true,  and  superseding  all 
the  false  expedients  for  attaining  the  same  end,  by 


ISAIAH  53,  3. 


245 


wliicli  tliese  very  nations  liad  again  and  again  been 
roused  to  frenzy,  and  excited  as  one  man  to  energetic 
but  insane  exertion.  Yes,  it  miglit  bave  been  imag¬ 
ined  tliat  tbe  men  wlio  bad  been  tlius  roused  by  tlie 
false,  or  partial  and  inadequate  devices  of  pliilosopby, 
pliilantliropy,  or  practical  experience  of  plotting  craft 
or  soaring  ambition,  would  bave  fallen  down  in  speecb- 
less  adoration  at  tbe  feet  of  Him,  invested  witli  divine 
authority  and  power  to  do  wbat  men  and  angels  bad 
essayed  in  vain. 

Witb  tbis  imagination,  natural  and  reasonable  as 
it  would  bave  been  beforeband,  let  us  now  compare 
tbe  simple,  unexaggerated  fact  as  recorded  in  tbe  text 
by  tbe  j^ropbetical  historian,  of  a  suffering  Messiah. 
“  lie  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men.”  Tbis  is  no 
hyperbole  or  oriental  figure  of  speech,  it  is  tbe  literal 
history  of  Christ’s  reception  by  tbe  nations  ;  tbe  truth, 
the  whole  truth,  and  nothing  but  tbe  truth.  Tie  was 
despised  and  rejected.  He  for  whom  they  bad  been 
waiting  with  an  eager  curiosity,  when  be  came  was 
despised  and  rejected  by  tbe  very  people  who  bad 
bung  with  idiotic  faith  upon  tbe  lips  of  augurs,  py¬ 
thonesses,  magi,  and  false  prophets.  Even  by  tbe 
Jews  themselves,  who  bad  existed  as  a  nation  to  pre¬ 
pare  for  bis  appearance,  be  was  desj^ised  and  rejected, 
i.  e.  by  tbe  masses  of  tbe  people ;  while  among  tbe 
Gentiles,  with  tbe  exception  of  tbe  chosen  few  who 
joined  with  tbe  elect  Jews  to  compose  tbe  Christian 
church,  tbe  exciting  anticipation  of  bis  coming  was 
exchanged  for  bitter  spite,  or  frivolous  contempt,  or 
stiijnd  indifference,  and  they  who  were  too  wise  and 
too  refined  to  believe  tbe  record  God  bad  given  of  bis 


246 


SERMONS. 


Son,  went  back  to  tlieir  oracles,  and  fanes,  and  mys¬ 
teries,  to  tlie  filtliy  rites  of  Y enus  and  tlie  bloody  rites 
of  Molocli  “  as  tlie  dog  returns  to  liis  own  vomit,  and 
tlie  sow  tliat  was  washed  to  her  wallowing  in  the 
mire.” 

These  expressions  may  be  strong,  but  the  reality 
is  stronger,  and  the  utmost  license  in  the  use  of  lan¬ 
guage  would  fall  short  of  the  loathsome  folly  and  in¬ 
gratitude  of  this  reception  given  to  God’s  highest,  best, 
and  most  invaluable  gift.  Nor  Avas  it  a  mere  tem¬ 
porary  tit  of  madness,  an  ephemeral  delirium.  It  has 
lasted  ever  since  Avithont  so  much  as  a  lucid  interval 
in  the  case  of  the  great  masses  of  mankind.  And 
never  has  this  scornful  rej  ection  of  an  offered  SaAdour 
been  more  odious  in  its  spite,  or  more  pitiable  in  its 
senselessness,  than  ^.t  the  times,  and  in  the  places, 
and  among  the  men,  Avhere  the  natural  credulity,  of 
which  I  have  been  speaking,  and  the  practical  do¬ 
cility  which  is  its  fruit,  Avere  most  conspicuously  man¬ 
ifest. 

These  darkened  glimpses  of  a  distant  past  may 
prepare  our  eyes  for  the  intenser  and  less  grateful  light 
of  times  and  places  nearer  to  ourseh^es.  Why  should 
Ave  talk  of  the  old  Homans  and  the  JeAv^s,  of  the  Cru¬ 
saders  and  the  medieval  generations,  Avhen  Ave  liaAm 
only  to  look  out  of  our  Avindows  to  behold  precisely 
the  same  spectacle,  the  same  susceptibility  of  strong 
impressions,  the  same  lively  hopes  and  fears,  the  same 
credulity  or  easy  faith,  disposing  to  belieAm  the  most^ 
extravagant  inventions,  if  einbellisliod  Avith  a  promise 
of  long  life,  or  boundless  Avealth,  or  unstinted  free¬ 
dom  ;  the  same  restless  inquiry  after  some  new  bait 


ISAIAH  5S,  S. 


247 


to  this  insatiable  appetite ;  the  same  precipitation  in 
obeying  any  call  to  fresh  indulgence,  mthoiit  stopping 
to  compute  the  chances  or  to  count  the  cost ;  the  game 
compassionate  Itedeemer  knocking  at  the  door  of 
men’s  hearts,  as  a  man  of  sorrows,  bruised  for  their 
inicpiities,  entreating,  as  it  were,  for  leave  to  save 
them,  and  the  same  contemptuous  repulse.  As  this 
was,  in  prophecy,  a  constituted  token  of  the  true 
Messiah,  so  has  it  been  in  history,  and  still  is,  the  in¬ 
variable  character  of  Christ’s  reception  by  the  world, 
by  the  nations,  by  the  masses  of  mankind.  The  of¬ 
fence  of  the  cross  has  not  ceased.  “  He  is  despised 
and  rejected  of  men.” 

This  would  be  bad  enough  and  strange  enough, 
even  if  it  were  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  character 
and  conduct  of  mankind  in  general.  Even  if  men 
were  naturally  unsusceptible  of  strong  excitement  in 
relation  to  the  future,  even  if  it  were  hard  to  rouse 
their  hopes  and  fears,  or  to  render  them  available  as 
means  of  practical  control ;  if  they  were  not  easily  im¬ 
posed  uj^on  by  falsehood  or  exaggeration,  or  disposed 
to  act  without  sufficient  evidence  or  warrant,  it  would 
still  be  an  unspeakable  infatuation  to  refuse  to  believe 
or  act  on  God’s  authority.  They  might  be  inaccessible 
to  dreams  of  wealth,  and  independence,  and  longevity, 
and  yet  be  chargeable  witli  madness  in  rejecting  ever- 
lastins:  life.  But  how  shall  we  find  words  for  the  de- 
scription  of  this  madness  when  tlie  ordinary  conduct 
of  mankind  is  all  the  other  way  ;  when  they  are  cred¬ 
ulous,  and  tractable,  and  eagerly  precipitate  in  every 
thing  that  promises  to  better  their  condition  in  the 
present  life,  and  only  sceptical,  and  self-willed,  and 


248 


SERMONS. 


refractory,  wlien  it  is  God  who  calls,  and  Christ  wiio 
pleads,  and  everlasting  life  or  death  that  is  at  stake  ! 
This  astonishing  exception  to  the  general  rule  of 
hnman  character  and  conduct  seems  to  call  for  ex¬ 
planation,  and  the  Bible  gives  it.  The  secret  of  this 
startling  inconsistency  lies  in  the  simple  hnt  humiliat¬ 
ing  fact,  that  men  are  most  insensible  precisely  to  the 
greatest  evils  and  the  greatest  good.  This  is  a  part  of 
their  hereditary  curse.  Madness  is  in  their  heart 
while  they  live,  and  after  that  they  go  to  the  dead,” 
to  be  forever  undeceived.  One  decisive  symptom 
of  this  madness  is,  that  it  regards  eternity  as  less  than 
time,  the  sonl  as  inferior  to  the  body,  God  as  less  en 
titled  to  belief  than  man,  an  hour  of  animal  indul¬ 
gence  more  attractive  than  all  heaven,  a  year  of 
bodily  privation  or  endurance  more  terrific  than  the 
gnawings  of  a  guilty  conscience,  and  the  fire  of  divine 
wrath  in  the  hottest  hell  forever.  I  am  speaking  now 
of  those  who  do  not  pretend  to  doubt  the  truth  of 
Christianity  or  to  dispute  the  authority  of  God,  but 
who  nevertheless  act  in  direct  opposition  to  their  own 
avowed  convictions.  With  such  delusions,  why  at¬ 
tempt  to  reason  ?  “  Madness  is  in  their  heart  wdiile 

they  live,  and  after  that  they  go  to  the  dead.” 

This  view  of  the  delusion,  under  which  the  whole 
race  naturally  labours,  casts  a  melancholy  light  upon 
the  actual  condition  of  the  world,  and  more  especially 
on  those  great  national  convulsions  which  are  contin¬ 
ually  reaching  even  these  ends  of  the  earth  with  the 
prolonged  reverberation  of  their  noise,  and  the  sym¬ 
pathetic  shock  of  their  concussions.  However  highly 
we  may  estimate  the  prize  for  which  the  nations  are 


ISAIAH  53,  3. 


249 


contending,  how  shonld  we  he  affected  hy  the  thought 
that  after  all,  these  struggling  masses  are  nnconscions 
of  their  greatest  dangers,  and  nnsnspicions  of  their 
deepest  degradation.  To  ns  the  fearful  events  that 
are  now  passing,  seen  hy  a  dim  light  at  so  vast  a  dis¬ 
tance,  are  like  some  great  nocturnal  conflagration,  or 
some  scene  of  shipwreck ;  and  to  one  who  takes  the 
view  which  I  have  just  presented,  most  of  the  actors 
in  this  fearful  drama  must  appear  like  men  enveloped 
in  the  flames,  or  sinking  in  the  waves  within  reach  of 
the  only  means  of  possible  escape,  yet  unaware  of  it, 
or  in  their  hlindness  and  confusion  disregarding  it ; 
catching,  with  desperate  eagerness,  at  this  or  that  ex¬ 
pedient,  only  to  relinquish  it  anon  or  to  perish  in  re¬ 
liance  on  it,  when  a  single  step,  a  motion  of  the  hands, 
a  turning  of  the  hody,  nay  a  look  or  a  word  of  admo¬ 
nition  from  another,  might  ensure  their  safety. 

He  who  could  gaze  on  such  a  scene  in  real  life 
without  a  sickening  of  the  heart,  must  he  without  one 
altogether.  And  a  kindred  feeling  may  he  naturally 
stirred  hy  the  sublime  hut  awful  spectacle  of  burning 
empires  and  of  shipwrecked  nations.  As  in  the  case 
supposed,  however  distant  or  however  feeble,  the 
liumane  spectator  would  experience  an  involuntary 
impulse  to  do  something,  to  hasten  towards  the  scene 
of  death,  to  shout  or  cry  aloud  in  wariiing ;  so  the 
man  who  looks  upon  contemporary  changes  in  the 
light  of  truth  and  of  eternity,  may  feel  an  irrepres- 
,  sihle  yearning  to  extend  a  helping  hand,  or  raise  a 
I  helping  voice  to  those  great  masses  now  in  violent  com- 
I  motion,  and  too  soon  perhaps  to  he  baptized  in  blood, 

'  to  warn  them  tliat  there  is  a  worse  oppression  than  the 
I  voi.  II. — 1 T^ 


250 


SERMONS. 


one  beneatli  whicli  tliey  are  chafing,  and  a  nobler 
freedom  than  tlie  one  in  wliicli  they  are  rejoicing,  to 
divert  tlieir  eyes  and  tlieir  idolatrous  atfections  from 
tlie  objects  of  tlieir  overweening  trust — tlie  men  whom 
they  worship  as  their  national  deliverers — to  One  who 
is  a  Saviour  indeed,  a  deliverer  both  of  men  and  na¬ 
tions,  blit  whom,  in  common  with  their  enemies  and 
tyrants,  they  are  still  rejecting. 

To  a  mind  susceptible  of  such  impressions,  and 
capable  of  large  and  lofty  views  of  hnman  interests, 
as  w^ell  as  open  to  the  calls  of  suffering  humanity,  the 
question  may  perhaps  present  itself  as  one  of  individ¬ 
ual  duty.  What  can  I  do  ?  what  shall  I  do  for  the 
remedy  of  tliis  great  evil  ?  I  will  answer  the  question, 
if  it  comes  from  one  who  is  himself  a  voluntary  sub¬ 
ject  of  Christ’s  kingdom.  I  say,  follow  yoiir  leader 
into  the  thickest  of  the  fight,  into  the  hottest  of  the 
fire,  into  the  heart  of  the  deep  sea  if  need  be ;  do  what 
yon  can  to  let  his  name  be  heard  and  his  victorious 
banner  seen  on  every  bloody  field,  on  every  wreck- 
strewed  sea  or  shore.  But  if,  alas,  yon  are  yourself  an 
alien  from  the  very  Christ  whom  yon  wonld  preach 
to  others,  then  my  answer  is,  remember  that  the  ocean 
is  made  np  of  drops,  and  all  societies  of  rational,  re¬ 
sponsible,  personal  agents.  If  every  man  among  the 
masses  now  in  motion  on  the  surface  of  society,  like 
conflicting  icebergs  in  the  arctic  sea,  were  personally 
loyal  and  devoted  to  the  Saviour,  the  entire  mass 
conld  not  despise  or  reject  him.  If  the  greater 
portion  were  thus  faithful,  the  controlling  inflnence 
in  nations  and  communities  must  be  a  good  one. 
Let  ns  not  then  be  so  far  absorbed  in  the  condition 


ISAIAH  53,  3.  251 

of  the  mass  as  to  lose  sight  of  its  constituent  ele¬ 
ments. 

For  a  moment  at  least,  insulate  yourself  from  the 
surrounding  mass  in  which  you  are,  perhaps,  too 
much  disposed  to  lose  sight  of  your  individuality,  and 
let  me  put  a  parting  question,  to  he  answered,  not  to 
me,  not  to  any  fellow-man,  hut  to  your  conscience  and 
your  God.  “He  was  despised  and  rejected  of  men.” 
Of  these  men  you  are  one  by  nature :  are  you  still 
one  in  the  heat  of  your  affections  and  the  conduct  of 
your  life?  Are  you  still  one  of  those  by  whom  the 
offer  of  salvation  is  rejected?  Do  you  still  refuse  or 
delay  to  trust  him,  and  to  give  yourself  away  to  him  ? 
Ah,  then !  I  beseech  you,  think  no  longer  of  the  na¬ 
tions  or  the  masses  who  reject  him.  Waste  not  your 
pity  on  mankind  in  general,  hut  reserve  it  for  that 
one  deluded  heart,  which  in  the  midst  of  all  this  light 
and  all  this  mercy,  still  despises  and  rejects  the  Sa¬ 
viour.  While  you  thus  bar  'the  door  of  your  own 
heart  against  him,  shed  not  the  tear  of  sentimental 
sorrow  over  his  exclusion  from  the  hearts  of  others, 
lest  he  turn  and — pointing  to  that  untried  future  which 
is  still  before  you — ^say  to  you  as  he  said  to  the  women 
who  lamented  liiin,  when  on  his  way  from  Gahbatha 
to  Golgotha,  from  the  judgment  seat  of  Pilate  to  the 
place  of  crucifixion,  “  Daughters  of  Jerusalem,  weep 
not  for  me,  but  for  yourselves  and  for  your  children.” 


XIV. 


IIecrev/s  11,  10. — lie  looked  for  a  city  which  hath  foundationa, 
whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. 

These  words  refer  to  tlie  Patriarcli  Abraliam,  one 
of  the  most  extraordinary  characters  of  any  age. 
'VYithont  going  into  his  biography  at  large,  let  me 
call  yonr  attention  to  two  circumstances,  which  espe¬ 
cially  distinguished  this  great  man  from  others.  In 
the  first  place,  he  was  the  Friend  of  God.  I  mean 
not  merely  that  his  history  entitles  him  to  this  hon¬ 
ourable  appellation ;  not  merely  that  God  treated  him 
and  looked  upon  him  as  his  friend  ;  but  that  he  is  ex¬ 
pressly  called  the  Friend  of  God  in  Scripture.  By  the 
mouth  of  the  prophet  Isaiah,  the  Lord  said  to  Israel : 
“Thou  art  my  servant,  Jacob  whom  I  have  chosen, 
the  seed  of  Abraham  my  friend.’’ 

And  why  v/as  he  thus  honoured  ?  JY as  not  Abra¬ 
ham  a  child  of  wrath  even  as  others  ?  Y"es.  lie  could 
not  therefore  be  entitled  meritoriously  to  the  distinc¬ 
tion  which  this  name  implies.  Flo,  he  himself  well 
knew  that  it  was  not  for  any  merit  of  his  own,  that 
he  was  allowed  to  be  the  Friend  of  God.  On  the  con¬ 
trary,  it  was  by  renouncing  all  dependence  on  himself 
that  he  acquired  this  honour.  Faith  was  his  grand 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


253 


distinction  ;  simple  reliance  on  the  word  of  God  ;  be¬ 
lief  in  his  promises,  and  acquiescence  in  his  method 
of  salvation.  It  'svas  thus  that  Abraham  became  the 
friend  of  God.  But  was  not  this  a  meritorious  faith  ? 
Did  not  this  veiy  seif-rennnciation  and  reliance  upon 
God  entitle  Abraham  to  claim  his  favour  ?  It  would 
have  done  so,  but  for  this  simple  reason,  that  his  faith 
was  the  gift  of  God,  and  that  the  same  glorious  Being 
who  rewarded  him,  bestowed  upon  him  that  which 
Avas  rcAvarded.  Where  is  boasting  then  ?  It  is  ex¬ 
cluded.  By  what  law?  The  law  of  Avorks?  Hay, 
but  by  the  law  of  faith.  It  was  faith,  my  brethren, 
faith  that  rendered  Abraham  pre-eminently  great,  so 
great  as  to  be  called  the  Friend  of  God,  and  the 
Father  of  the  Faithful. 

This  is  the  second  honourable  title  Avhich  I  pro¬ 
pose  to  mention.  Abraham,  the  Friend  of  God,  Avas 
also  the  Father  of  the  Faithful.  Hot,  as  the  Jcavs 
supposed,  the  Father  of  their  nation  merely.  This 
mistaken  notion  made  them  cry  out  in  reply  to  our 
Lord’s  severe  reproofs,  ‘AYe  liaAm  Abraham  to  our 
father.”  And  what  Avas  his  answer  ?  ‘‘  God  is  able  even 
j  of  these  stones  to  raise  up  children  unto  Abraham.” 

That  is  to  say,  though  all  Israel  should  fail,  Abraham 
i  might  still  have  a  numerous  spiritual  seed  ;  and  God 
I  can  give  him  such  even  from  the  most  unexpected 
;  quarters,  the  most  unpromising  materials.  While  the 
;  unbelieving  natural  descendants  of  Abraham  are  cast 
,  out,  the  degraded  heathen  can  be  put  into  their  place 
by  the  poAver  and  grace  of  God.  He  is  able,  even  of 
these  stones,  to  raise  up  children  unto  Abraham.  It 
^  Avas  not  of  Jcavs  then,  but  of  true  believers,  that  Abra- 


254 


SERMONS. 


ham  was  the  spiritual  Father;  the  Father  of  the 
Faithful. 

He  was  their  father,  first,  as  being  their  exemplar. 
He  is  held  up  as  a  model  of  strong  faith  to  all  believers, 
and  thej  who  follow  the  example  of  his  faith,  are  in 
that  respect  his  children.  In  this  sense  he  is  the  Fath¬ 
er  of  the  Faithful.  But  he  is  also  the  Father  of  the 
Faithful,  because  the  promise  made  to  him  embraced 
all  believers  who  came  after  him.  The  condition  of  this 
promise  was  not  obedience  to  the  law,  but  faith  in  the 
gratuitous  mercy  of  God,  and  in  the  atoning  sacrifice 
of  Christ.  And  this  was  the  condition,  not  to  Abra¬ 
ham  only,  but  to  his  spiritual  seed,  i.  e.,  to  all  who 
should  believe  as  he  believed.  “  For  the  promise  that 
he  should  be  the  heir  of  the  world,  w^as  not  to  Abra¬ 
ham,  or  to  his  seed,  through  the  law,  but  through  the 
righteousness  of  faith.”  As  one  of  the  contracting 
parties  in  this  gracious  covenant,  or  rather  as  the 
representative  of  those  to  whom  these  promises  were 
given,  Abraham  Avas  the  Father  of  the  Faithful. 

Passing  over  all  his  other  claims  to  high  distinc¬ 
tion  your  memory  Avill  readily  suggest,  I  desire  you 
to  fix  your  eyes  on  these  two  titles  of  nobility  be- 
stoAved  upon  Abraham  in  the  Avord  of  God,  and  meas¬ 
uring  his  rank  by  these,  to  take  into  consideration  a 
remarkable  fact  in  his  history  to  Avhich  I  noAV  iiiAute 
your  attention.  This  fact  is,  that  Abraham,  the 
Friend  of  God  and  the  Father  of  the  Faithful,  Avas  a 
homeless  man,  a  Avanderer,  Avho  sojourned  in  the  land 
of  promise,  as  in  a  strange  country,  dAvelling  in  tents 
like  an  Arab  or  a  Tartar.  This  fact,  though  not  inex¬ 
plicable,  is  so  far  singular  as  to  deserve  our  particu 
lar  attention 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


255 


Why,  then,  was  Abraham  a  wanderer,  a  homeless 
man,  a  sojourner  in  the  land  of  promise?  I  remark 
(1)  that  it  was  not  on  account  of  poverty.  In  the 
East,  indeed,  the  wandering  mode  of  life  is  not  in 
any  case  a  sign  of  poverty.  Powerful  chieftains  and 
whole  tribes  of  warriors  lead  such  a  life  from  choice, 
or  because  it  is  necessary  for  the  subsistence  of  their 
flocks  and  herds.  But  even  if  it  were  in  general  a 
criterion  of  poverty,  it  could  not  be  so  in  this  case. 
Abraham  was  rich — rich  by  inheritance — rich  by 
acquisition — rich  by  the  blessing  of  God  on  the  in¬ 
crease  of  his  possessions— and  rich  tln-ough  the  favour 
of  the  kings  and  chiefs  whose  friendship  he  enjoyed. 
His  history  is  that  of  one  who  lived  in  ease  and 
affluence,  practising  the  characteristic  hospitality  of 
an  eastern  chief. 

2.  Was  it  then  because  he  had  no  real  estate,  no 
landed  ^iroperty,  to  which  he  could  lay  claim,  and  on 
which  he  might  reside  ?  The  whole  land  of  Canaan 
was  in  one  sense  his  own.  It  was  his  by  express 
£>:rant  from  Jehovah — made  sure  to  him  and  to  his 
heirs  forever.  It  is  true  that  when  he  needed  a  pos¬ 
session  of  a  burial-place  he  bought  it  with  his  money 
of  the  children  of  Ileth.  But  this  was  a  part  of  that 
same  course  of  self-denial  and  forbearance  which 
is  now  in  question.  The  same  motive  that  made  him 
a  sojourner  and  wanderer,  led  him  to  forego  his  rights 
as  the  legitimate  owner  of  the  soil,  and  the  question 
still  arises  what  these  motives  were. 

3.  We  read  that  when  Abraham  first  crossed  the 
Jordan  from  the  east,  ‘‘  the  Canaanite  was  in  the 
land.’’  The  Ilivite,  the  Ilittite,  the  Jebusite,  the 


256 


SERMONS. 


Amorite,  and  otlier  sons  of  Canaan,  had  possession  of 
the  country.  And  so  thickly  were  they  settled,  in 
the  central  part  at  least,  that  there  was  not  room  for 
Abraham  and  Lot  to  live  together.  May  it  not  he, 
therefore,  that  these  actual  possessors  of  the  country 
would  not  snider  him  to  dwell  among  them  ?  Had 
they  known  his  pretensions,  or,  to  speak  more  prop¬ 
erly,  his  rights,  they  might  have  hated  him  and  driven 
him  away.  But  as  he  made  no  efforts  to  enforce  those 
rights,  nor  even  to  assert  them ;  and  as  he  came 
among  them  from  the  east  with  flocks  and  herds,  and 
as  an  independent  chieftain,  they  received  him  with 
respect,  and  this  respect  increased. 

It  is,  indeed,  an  interesting  feature  in  the  history 
of  Abraham’s  expatriation,  that  in  Egypt,  in  Philistia, 
and  in  Canaan,  he  w^as  treated  by  the  natives,  not 
only  as  a  man  respectable  for  wealth  and*  power,  but 
as  a  Prince,  a  “Prince  of  God,”  and  as  a  Prophet,  one 
who  held  immediate  intercourse  with  God,  and  was 
an  interpreter  of  the  divine  will.  In  these  characters 
he  was  known  and  reverenced  by  the  heathen  who 
surrounded  him ;  and  except  in  the  case  of  the  attack 
on  Sodom  and  Gomorrah  by  the  “  confederated  kings,” 
all  his  relations  with  the  Canaanites  were  amicable. 
And  in  the  only  case  where  he  applied  for  land,  it 
was  granted  by  the  Hittites  ima  manner  most  cour¬ 
teous  and  cordial.  It  was  not,  therefore,  on  account 
of  any  enmity  between  him  and  the  Canaanites,  that, 
instead  of  founding  or  accepting  a  great  city,  he  pre¬ 
ferred  to  live  a  wandering  and  what  we  would  call  a 
homeless  life.  There  must  be  other  reasons  for  his 


course. 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


25Y 


4.  Since  then  it  was  neither  poverty,  nor  the  want 
of  land,  nor  opposition  on  the  part  of  its  possessors, 
that  deterred  him  from  inhabiting  a  city,  or,  at  least, 
from  leading  a  more  settled  life,  it  may  he  suggested, 
that  his  perseverance  in  a  wandering  course,  shows 
him  to  have  been  a  mere  barbarian,  one  who  was 
unable  to  appreciate  the  comforts  of  a  settled  life,  or 
rather,  who  had  never  had  experience  of  them.  Thus 
we  find  that  in  Arabia  there  are  tribes  of  Bedouins 
who  regard  their  wandering  life  as  the  most  honoura¬ 
ble  possible,  and  laugh  to  scorn  those  pleasures  and 
advantages  of  civilized  society  about  which  they  know 
nothing  by  experience.  But  let  it  be  observed  that 
these  tribes  inhabit  the  Arabian  desert,  where  culti¬ 
vation  exists  only  in  detached  spots,  and  where  the 
herdsman  is  obliged  to  change  his  pasture-ground  and 
home  continually. 

Abraham,  on  the  other  hand,  was  in  a  fertile,  cul¬ 
tivated,  thickly  settled  country,  full  of  proud  cities, 
walled  towns  of  inferior  size,  and  villages  innumera¬ 
ble.  There  is  strong  reason  to  believe  that  the  Ca- 
naanites  who  were  then  in  the  land,  had  reached  a 
I  pretty  high  degree  of  civilization.  Scanty  as  our  iii- 
i  formation  is  about  them,  there  are  incidental  indica- 
i  tions  of  improvement  which  are  not  to  be  mistaken. 
1  But  even  suj)230sing  that  they  were  barbarians,  it 
does  not  follow  that  Abraham  was  also  one.  Coming 
'  as  ho  did  from  that  part  of  the  globe  which  seems  to 
;  have  been  first  settled  after  the  flood — from  a  coun- 
j  try,  which  in  later  times,  claimed,  and  was  allowed 
;  to  be,  the  cradle  of  knowledge  by  the  heathen  world, 
it  is  not  to  be  suj^posed  that  he  was  a  barbarian.  The 


258 


SERMONS. 


mere  possession  of  the  true  religion,  would  have  had, 
in  this  as  well  as  other  cases,  a  refining  infinence. 
No,  he  was  no  barbarian.  It  was  not  because  he 
knew  no  better  that  he  chose  to  sojourn  as  a  stranger 
in  the  land  of  promise — to  dwell  in  tents  instead  of 
houses — and  to  govern  an  encampment,  not  a  city  or 
a  kingdom. 

5.  "Was  it  then  because  he  thought  it  wrong  to  lead 
a  settled  life  in  towns  and  cities,  that  he  dwelt  in 
tents  ?  There  is  no  trace  of  such  a  doctrine  in  the 
word  of  God,  and  Abraham  was  too  well  grounded  in 
the  divine  will,  to  hold  it  as  a  superstition.  Tie  was 
no  ascetic.  TIis  mode  of  life,  as  I  have  said  already, 
was  a  generous  one,  without  fanatical  antipathies — 
without  the  practice  of  monastic  austerities  or  the 
will-worship  of  self-infiicted  mortifications.  It  was 
not  because  he  looked  upon  a  settled  life  and  civiliza¬ 
tion  as  sinful,  that  he  was  willing  to  relinquish  them. 
What  then  was  his  motive  ? 

G.  To  some  the  thought  may  here  occur,  that  we 
are  searching  for  the  explanation  of  a  fact  which 
needs  none.  Why  should  Abraham’s  wandering  be 
considered  stranger  than  the  wandering  of  any  other 
eastern  Chief?  And  as  those  of  the  highest  rank  lead 
such  a  life  to  this  day,  it  need  not  be  regarded  as  be¬ 
low  the  dignity  even  of  the  Father  of  the  Faithful  and 
the  Friend  of  God.  He  came  into  the  country  with 
his  fiocks  and  herds  ;  and  as  the  land  was  densely 
peopled,  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  frequently 
changing  his  encampment  and  his  pasture.  This 
would  bo  wholly  satisfactory,  but  for  the  Apostle’s 
mention  of  the  patriarch’s  unsettled  life,  as  a  re- 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


259 


markable  evidence  of  faith.  If  it  arose  merely  from 
the  nature  of  his  property,  and  in  fact  contributed  to 
his  convenience  and  increase  in  wealth,  it  would 
hardly  have  been  said  of  him,  that  ‘‘  by  faith  he  so- 
joinmed  in  the  land  of  promise  as  in  a  strange  country, 
dwelling  in  tents  with  Isaac  and  Jacob,  the  heirs  of 
him  of  tlie  same  promise.”  We  are,*therefore,  forced 
to  the  conclusion  that  his  motive  for  pursuing  such  a 
course,  was  very  different  from  that  which  leads  the 
ordinary  herdsmen  of  the  east  to  shift  from  place  to 
place,  and  to  live  and  die  beneath  a  roof  of  camel’s 
hair  or  goatskins. 

7.  Having  thus  determined  negatively,  that  it  was 
neither  poverty,  nor  want  of  title  to  the  land,  nor  op¬ 
position  on  the  jiart  of  the  inhabitants,  nor  ignorance, 
nor  mere  ascetic  self-denial,  nor  a  regard  to  temporal 
convenience  that  induced  him  to  reside  in  tents, 
rather  than  in  a  palace  and  a  city  worthy  of  so  great 
a  prince,  we  are  ready  to  receive  the  explanation  of 
the  text,  which  is  this,  “  he  looked”  or  was  looking 
“  for  a  city.”  There  is  an  ambiguity  in  the  English 
version  whicli  is  not  in  the  original.  “  To  look  for,” 
in  modern  English,  means  to  search  for  or  to  seek. 
In  the  English  of  our  Bible,  where  the  phrase  is  not 
uncommon,  it  means  simply  to  expect.  The  sense 
then,  is  not  that  Abraham  was  wandering  in  search 
of  a  city  upon  earth,  but  that  he  lived  in  quiet  ex¬ 
pectation  of  a  city.  “  If  we  hope  for  that  we  see  not, 
then  do  we  with  patience  wait  for  it.”  It  was  this 
“patience  of  hope”  that  rendered  Abraham  indif¬ 
ferent  to  the  walled  cities  of  the  Canaanites  around 
him,  whose  antiquity  was  of  ancient  days,  and  whose 


260 


SERMONS. 


defence  was  tlie  munition  of  rocks,  l^otliino;  so 
eifectually  breeds  indifference  to  present  objects,  as 
the  hope  of  better  things  to  come.  The  ti’aveller  press¬ 
ing  homewards  after  a  long  absence,  can  pass,  with  a 
contemptuous  smile,  or  absolute  unconsciousness, 
those  very  objects  which  the  homeless  traveller  dwells 
upon  with  rapture.  As  the  venerable  patriarch  jour¬ 
neyed  from  Dan  to  Beersheba,  passing  among  the 
cities  and  domains  of  the  Canaanites,  we  may  imagine 
that  we  saw  him  looking  ever  and  anon  beyond  these 
objects  to  one  more  remote,  and  losing  sight  of  Kir- 
jath-Arba  and  Jehus,  since  called  Hebron  and 
Jerusalem,  with  their  tall  towers  and  heaven-scaling 
walls,  amidst  the  loftier  battlements  and  turrets  of 
that  real  yet  ideal  city,  towards  which  he  was  jour¬ 
neying.  He  looked  for  a  city.” 

8.  And  what  sort  of  a  city  did  he  look  for,  in  con¬ 
tempt  of  those  around  him  ?  How  did  the  city  of  his 
expectations  differ  from  the  cities  of  the  Canaanites 
and  the  Philistines,  from  old  Damascus,  and  from  Ur 
of  the  Chaldees  ?  It  had  foundations.  He  looked 
for  a  city  which  hath  foundations.”  And  had  not 
they  foundations  ?  In  one  sense,  they  had  none.  They 
were  liable  to  change.  In  the  same  sense,  Abraham’s 
city,  which  he  looked  for,  had  foundations,  has  them 
now ;  for  observe  the  present  form  of  the  expression. 
It  was  a  city,  therefore,  not  of  this  world ;  for  in  this 
world  there  are  no  foundations  time-proof.  And 
whence  had  the  city  of  his  hopes  these  firm  founda¬ 
tions  ?  From  the  Architect. 

9.  Whose  builder  and  maker  is  God  ?  God  does 
not  build  like  man.  The  foundations  of  his  structures 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


261 


are  laid  deep  in  Ids  decrees,  and  the  cement  has  been 
growing  hard  from  all  eternity.  His  power  over  the 
materials  he  uses,  is  not  merely  the  disposing  power 
of  a  builder,  but  the  absolute  power  of  a  maker.  What 
he  builds  he  creates.  The  city  of  which  he  is  the 
maker  and  builder,  is  eternal ;  it  has  foundations 
which  decay  can  never  weaken,  and  which  laugh  at 
the  violence  of  storm  and  earthquake.  Abraham 
lived  in  expectation  of  a  city  which  was  not  of  this 
world.  It  was  what  we  call  heaven,  in  the  highest 
sense,  the  residence  prepared  by  God  for  life  true  fol¬ 
lowers  after  death — a  faithful  city  in  which  dwelleth 
righteousness,  the  new  Jerusalem  which  John  beheld 

in  vision.  It  is  a  citv  which  has  no  need  of  the 

«/ 

sun,  neither  of  the  moon,  to  shine  in  it;  for  the  glory 
of  God  lightens  it,  and  the  Lamb  is  the  light  thereof 
And  who  are  its  inhabitants  ?  The  nations  of 
them  which  are  saved  shall  walk  in  the  light  of  it, 
and  the  kings  of  the  earth  bring  their  glory  and 
honour  into  it.  And  the  gates  of  it  shall  not  be  shut 
at  all  by  day  ;  for  there  shall  be  no  night  there.  And 
they  shall  bring  the  glory  and  the  honour  of  the  na¬ 
tions  into  it.’’  And  are  none  to  be  excluded  ?  Ah, 
yes  !  There  shall  in  no  wise  enter  into  it  any  thing 
tliat  delileth,  neither  whatsoever  worketh  abomination 
or  maketh  a  lie  :  but  they  which  are  written  in  the 
Lamb’s  book  of  life.”  And  no  names  are  found  thei-e 
but  the  names  of  those  who  wash  their  robes  and 
make  them  white  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb.  This  is 
the  grand  distinction  of  the  city  for  which  Abraham 
looked.  It  is  a  city  free  from  sin.  In  this  it  differs 
from  all  earthly  cities.  It  is  hard  to  conceive  of  one 


262 


SERMONS. 


of  our  great  cities  without  the  associated  images  of 
filth,  riot,  drunkenness,  dehaucheiy,  and  wretched¬ 
ness.  But  if  we  ever  reach  the  city  of  Abraham,  and 
rest  upon  his  bosom  at  its  sumptuous  feasts,  we  shall 
know  how  to  separate  these  hateful  concomitants  from 
our  conceptions  of  a  city. 

And  why  is  it  called  a  city  ?  Because  with  a  city 
we  associate  ideas  of  substantial  strength,  immense 
wealth,  regular  government,  social  intercourse,  refine¬ 
ment  of  manners,  and  external  splendour.  But  what 
are  all  tlfese,  in  the  cities  of  the  earth,  to  the  surpass¬ 
ing  glories  of  that  city  for  which  Abraham  looked, 
and  where  the  saints  shall  be  enthroned  as  kings  and 
priests  unto  God  ?  'No  wonder,  then,  that  Abraham, 
forgetting  things  around  him,  looked  for  a  city  wdiich 
hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. 

10.  Here,  then,  we  begin  to  see  a  marked  resem¬ 
blance  between  his  case  and  our  own.  However  for¬ 
eign  and  remote  from  our  experience,  what  has  hith¬ 
erto  been  said  of  his  condition,  at  last  we  are  alike, 
we  are  all  sojourners  and  strangers  upon  earth,  we 
seek  the  same  city  as  the  Patriarch.  However  well 
we  may  be  pleased  with  it,  however  fully  satisfied 
with  what  it  can  afford,  Ave  knoAv  that  our  abode  in  it 
is  only  for  a  time  :  it  is  not  the  place  of  our  rest. 
And  of  this  Ave  are  receiving  constant  admonitions. 
If  man’s  relations  to  liis  felloAA"-man  remained  unal¬ 
tered  during  the  present  life,  he  might  be  tempted  to 
believe  that  this  Avas  his  final  resting-place.  But 
Providence  has  left  no  room  for  such  an  illusion.  The 
cords  that  bind  us  to  the  Avorld  are  breaking  one  after 
another,  and  the  very  ground  on  Avhich  Ave  stand  seems 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


263 


to  slide  away  from  under  iis ;  so  that,  in  middle  life 
and  old  age,  we  appear  to  tread  no  longer  the  green 
and  smiling  earth  we  trod  in  childhood.  We  have 
within  ns  also  abundant  indications  that  we  are  mere 
sojourners.  The  sense  of  a  hereafter,  the  instinctive 
stretching  of  the  thoughts  towards  it,  teach  us  the 
same  lesson  ;  while  the  voice  of  conscience  sometimes 
shrieks,  and  sometimes  whispers.  Arise  and  depart 
hence  :  this  is  not  your  rest.  You  may,  perhaps,  have 
heaped  up  wealth,  and  used  various  methods,  in  order 
to  persuade  yourself  that  you  are  here  at  home,  and 
you  may  be  ready  to  exclaim.  What,  am  I  a  mere  so¬ 
journer,  surrounded  as  I  am  by  all  this  permanent 
prosperity?  You  are  like  a  man  upon  a  journey 
homeward,  Avho  should  tarry  at  a  wayside  inn,  and 
expend  Ins  time  and  money  in  famishing  and  decking 
his  temporary  lodgings.  And  do  you  not  at  times 
feel  yourself  that  it  is  so  ?  Have  you  not  often  an  un¬ 
easy  sense  of  present  insecurity  and  approaching 
change  ?  And  is  not  this  sufficient  to  obscure  the 
brightness  of  your  precious  metals,  and  to  impair  the 
I  verdure  of  your  pleasant  fields?  And  you,  O  men  of 
j  pleasure,  have  not  you  the  same  experience  ?  In  the 
I  midst  of  your  exciting  and  degrading  pastimes,  have 
I  you  not  paroxysms  of  alarm  and  restlessness  ?  Amidst 
1  your  voluntary  madness,  have  you  not  your  lucid  in- 
1  tervals,  in  which  you  feel  you  are  mere  sojourners  in 
a  foreign  country?  All  feel  it;  all  know,  though  all 
will  not  allow  themselves  to  act  as  if  they  kneAV  that 
they  are  not  at  home,  and  that  a  journey  is  before 
them. 

!  11.  How,  this  feeling  of  uneasiness,  this  sense  of 


264: 


SERMONS. 


homelessness,  is,  as  you  well  know,  incompatible  with 
happiness.  In  order  to  be  happy,  you  must  have  a 
home,  either  present  or  in  prospect.  Have  you  such 
a  home  ?  Hemember  that  earthly  homes,  in  reference 
to  eternity,  are  nothing  worth.  Look  at  the  house¬ 
holds  breaking  up  around  you,  and  say  whether  these 
can  be  your  solace  and  your  stay  forever.  What  will 
you  do  then  ?  Will  you  waste  yourselves  in  misan¬ 
thropic  discontent?  Ho!  do  as  Abraham  did:  look 
forward  to  the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  maker  is  God.  The  more  unsatisfactory 
you  find  this  world,  look  the  more  eagerly  and  stead¬ 
fastly  on  that  which  is  to  come.  Are  you  just  begin¬ 
ning  life,  and  have  you,  as  yet,  experienced  no  vicis¬ 
situdes  ?  Oh,  then,  be  wise  beforehand.  Do  not  wait 
till  your  heart  is  sickened  and  your  temper  soured  by 
disappointment.  But  now,  when  your  feelings  are 
elastic,  and  your  affections  ardent,  even  now,  look  for 
a  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  God. 

If,  on  the  other  hand,  experience  has  taught  you 
tlie  treacherous  hollowness  of  sinful  pleasures,  and 
your  heart  is  almost  breaking  witli  defeated  hopes, 
unsatisfied  desires,  and  a  sense  of  w^ant,  then  have  you 
the  less  excuse  for  looking  any  longer  at  those  objects 
which  you  have  already  proved  and  found  unsatisfac¬ 
tory.  Oh,  begin  at  last  to  look  away  from  this  world, 
with  its  cloud-capped  towers  and  gorgeous  palaces — 
look  away  from  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  vision,  to  a 
city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker 
is  God. 

12.  But  here  let  us  guard  against  a  fatal  error— 


HEBEEWS  11,  10. 


265 


the  error  of  imagining  that  mere  expectation  is  alone 
required.  Believe  me,  multitudes  have  looked  for 
that  city  who  have  never  reached  it.  There  is  but 
one  path  to  it  through  the  wilderness  of  life,  and  that 
path  is  a  narrow  one.  It  was  by  that  path  that  the 
Father  of  the  Faithful  gained  the  object  of  his  faith 
and  hope.  If  you  would  gain  it  likewise,  you  must 
walk  in  the  footsteps  of  the  Friend  of  God.  Do  you 
ask  what  path  he  travelled  ?  I  reply,  the  path  of 
humble,  childlike  faith.  TTe  know  from  the  life 
of  Christ  himself,  that  Abraham  desired  to  see  his 
day,  and  saw  it,  and  was  glad.  It  was  faith  in 
God’s  mercy,  and  that  was  counted  to  him  for  right¬ 
eousness.  It  was  a  firm  belief  that  God  would  set 
forth  a  propitiation  for  the  sins  of  men,  and  a  hearty 
acceptance  of  the  jiardon  thus  provided  for  himself. 

These  are  the  footsteps  of  the  Father  of  the  Faith¬ 
ful.  If  then  you  are  merely  looking  forward  to  the 
happiness  of  heaven,  without  knowing  or  caring  how 
it  is  to  be  obtained,  learn  from  the  example  of  Abra¬ 
ham,  that  you  must  renounce  all  sin  and  self-reliance, 
and  believe  in  Jesus  Christ  for  the  salvation  of  your 
souls,  if  you  would  look,  with  any  well-grounded  hope, 
for  a  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  God. 

13.  And  now  let  me  turn  to  you  Vvdio  have  your 
faces  turned  to  Zion,  and  are  already  looking  for  that 
I  city  to  which  Abi’aharn  aspired,  and  where  he  reigns 
i  in  glory.  It  is  said  that  when  the  caravan  of  pilgrims 
!  to  the  sepulchre  of  Christ  cross  the  mountains  of 
!  Judea,  worn  with  hunger  and  fatigue,  they  are  some¬ 
times  ready  to  relax  their  efforts  and  despair  of  safe 
vol:  it. — 12 


266 


SERMONS. 


arrival.  They  may  even  repent  of  their  own  folly  in 
attempting  so  ad  venturous  a  journey,  and  wdsh  them¬ 
selves  in  safety  at  their  own  distant  firesides.  But 
these  thoughts  all  vanish  when  the  summit  is  attained, 
and  from  the  mountain’s  brow,  they  catch  a  glimpse 
of  Olivet  and  Zion,  and  the  Forsaken  City  seated  in 
her  widov/’s  weeds  upon  her  throne  of  hills.  That 
sight  reanimates  their  courage  and  renews  their 
strength.  With  simultaneous  energy  they  rise  and 
hasten  onward,  and  the  roughness  of  the  journey  is 
forgotten  in  the  presence  of  Jerusalem.  Oh,  breth¬ 
ren,  we  are  also  strangers  and  pilgrims,  and  our  way 
through  the  world  may  he  precipitous  and  rugged, 
and  so  long  as  we  look  only  at  the  things  around  us, 
our  hearts  may  well  grow  faint  and  our  knees  feeble. 
But  amidst  these  trials  and  discouragements,  look  up¬ 
ward  to  the  heavenly  hills,  and  through  the  dust  and 
smoke  of  this  world’s  troubles,  keep  the  Eternal  City 
steadfastly  in  view.  That  sight  wdll  make  your  hearts 
heat  with  new  vigor.  It  will  nerve  your  arm  for  bat¬ 
tle  and  your  bosom  for  resistance.  It  will  enable  you 
to  look  down  with  contempt  upon  the  pleasures  and 
temptations  of  the  world ;  it  will  preserve  you  from 
illusions,  painful  even  to  the  Christian,  and  ah  !  how 
often  fatal  to  the  unbeliever.  Yfith  such  illusions, 
we  may  rest  assured  the  world,  the  church,  the  ex¬ 
perience  and  the  souls  of  men  are  ever  teeming. 

Upon  one  or  two  such,  I  may  dwell  for  a  moment 
in  conclusion.  If  the  scenes  which  I  describe  are  but 
ideal,  they  may  serve,  at  least,  as  types  of  a  most 
solemn  reality.  Let  us  imagine  that  we  see  one  stand¬ 
ing,  even  now,  upon  an  eminence,  a  rising  ground 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


207 


ill  life,  and  looking  forwards.  He  sees  nothing  but 
green  lields  and  waving  forests — all"  is  fresh  and  all 
is  smiling — an  unruffled  stream  of  pleasure  rolls 
through  his  imaginary  landscape,  and  the  distinctions 
which  he  hopes  for,  rise  like  mountains  in  the  dis¬ 
tance.  Upon  these  delightful  and  inspiring  objects 
his  eye  rests  and  feeds.  He  has  no  desire  to  look  be¬ 
yond  them.  At  times,  indeed,  he  may  catch  a  mo¬ 
mentary  glimpse  of  something  bright,  and  towering 
above  the  highest  of  the  heights  before  him.  Some¬ 
times,  when  the  sun  breaks  out  with  sudden  splendour 
from  behind  a  cloud,  it  seems  to  be  reflected,  for  an 
instant,  from  a  thousand  glittering  points,  as  though 
there  were  a  city  in  the  sky.  But  in  a  moment  it  is  gone, 
and  he  forgets  it,  or  congratulates  himself  that  he  is 
no  enthusiast,  to  give  up  the  real  and  substantial 
splendours  of  the  scene  before  him  in  exchange  for 
cloud-built  palaces  and  castles  in  the  air. 

This  proud  reflection  brings  him  back,  with  new 
complacenc}^,  to  the  Elysian  flelds  which  lie  before 
him,  and  he  drinks  in  with  new  pleasure  the  delight¬ 
ful  sights  and  sounds  presented  to  his  senses.  Ho 
wonder  then  that  he  refuses  to  listen,  or  listens  only 
with  incredulous  contempt,  to  the  fanatic  who  would 
tell  him  that  this  tairy  prospect  is  a  cheat,  a  mere 
illusion — that  its  colours  fade  and  its  music  ceases, 
on  a  near  approach,  and  that  the  city  in  the  clouds, 
which  he  supposed  he  saw,  is  not  only  real,  but  the 
only  refuge  from  approaching  dangers.  He  turns 
with  pity  or  disgust  from  such  forebodings,  and  then 
passes  on,  until  he  stands  upon  the  verge  of  the 
eminence  from  which  he  has  been  gazing.  He  looks 


268 


SERMONS. 


down  into  tlie  valley,  and  beliolds  with  fresh  delight, 
its  verdnre  and  its  fruits — its  sunshine  and  its  shade, 
lie  envies  the  retirement  of  its  peaceful  hamlets,  and 
listens  with  awe  to  the  distant  murmur  of  its  populous 
cities.  All  seems  delightful — all  substantial — and 
above  all,  near  at  hand. 

Enchanted  with  the  prospect,  he  contemplatively 
lifts  his  eyes  to  yonder  dim  horizon,  as  if  to  satisfy 
himself  that  there  is  nothing  there  to  lure  him  on¬ 
ward.  And  nothing  does  he  see  but  fleecy  clouds,  or 
“  the  body  of  the  heavens  in  its  clearness.”  Or  if  he 
does  for  an  instant  see  again  that  strange  unearthly 
gleam,  and  catch  a  faint  sound  like  the  dying  swell 
of  distant  music,  the  flash  is  transient,  and  the  sound 
no  sooner  heard  than  it  is  hushed.  He  pauses  for  a 
moment  at  the  point  where  the  upward  and  the  down¬ 
ward  paths  diverge  ;  he  looks  up  the  narrow  wflnding 
way  into  the  mountains,  and  then  plunges  into  that 
which  leads  him  gently  down  through  groves  and 
gardens  into  the  deep  valley.  Once  and  again  he 
may  stand  still  to  listen  as  a  voice  of  w^arning  comes 
again  upon  his  ear.  But  his  election  has  been  made. 
He  passes  dowmward  and  still  downward,  guided  by 
the  hu]n  of  distant  voices,  and  the  gentle  rush  of  water 
far  below.  He  observes  with  surprise  that  as  he 
passes  on,  the  distant  prospect  still  seems  bright  and 
beautiful,  but  objects  near  at  hand  have  no  such 
charms.  Ilowmver  far  he  journeys,  the  green  flelds 
are  still  as  far  off  as  at  first ;  the  fields  around  him 
appear  parched  and  barren.  Elow'ers  are  in  the  dis¬ 
tance,  but  at  hand  are  thorns  and  briers.  Gardens 
like  that  of  the  Ilesperides  are  yonder,  but  here  a 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


269 


garden  like  that  of  the  sluggard,  full  of  weeds  and  un¬ 
enclosed.  He  begins  to  imagine  tliat  all  nature  droops 
and  fades  at  bis  approacli.  Tlie  grass  seems  to  wither 
where  his  footsteps  fall ;  his  breath  seems  to  poison 
vegetation  and  the  atmosphere.  The  healthful  airs  of 
heaven  become  hot  winds  of  the  desert  when  they 
touch  his  cheek  ;  and  the  glassy  streams  which  were 
to  slake  his  thirst  dry  up  as  he  bends  over  them,  and 
leave  a  putrid  slime  in  their  forsaken  channels.  The 
birds  whose  song  allured  him,  become  owls  or  vul¬ 
tures,  or  drop  lifeless  from  the  branches.  Hamlets 
and  cities  turn  to  rocks  and  sandhills  ;  and  the  shadow¬ 
ing  trees,  now  leafless,  leave  his  head  exposed  to 
sorching  rays  from  an  unclouded  sun.  As  he  looks 
up  to  tell  him  how  he  hates  his  beams,  his  torment  is 
enhanced  by  another  passing  glimpse  of  that  myste¬ 
rious  city  in  the  clouds  above  the  mountain  tops,  and 
another  dying  echo  of  its  music.  In  despairing  spite 
he  stops  his  ears  and  hastens  onwards,  and  the  heat 
soon  grows  more  tolerable,  for  the  sun  is  hidden  and 
the  sky  is  overcast.  Winds  begin  to  howl  and  whis¬ 
tle  ;  thunders  mutter  angrily,  and  a  thousand  echoes 
from  the  hills  around  proclaim  the  coming  tempest. 
The  very  earth  beneath  him  quakes,  and  the  illusions 
of  the  fairy  landscape  cease,  and  cease  for  ever.  All, 
all  is  desolate,  not  even  a  shelter  from  the  driving  rain. 
The  traveller  looks  desperately  around  for  refuge 
from  the  storms  of  life,  and  then  madly  plunges  into 
some  dark  cavern  of  pre-eminent  iniquity ;  and  now 
unable  to  arrest  his  progress,  passes  furiously  onwards 
in  the  midst  of  darkness  and  strange  noises,  till  he 
Buddenly  comes  forth  into  the  light  of  day  upon  the 


270 


SERMONS. 


margin  of  a  precipice.  With  convulsive  energy  lie 
pauses  on  the  brink ;  for  nature  sickens  at  the  gulf 
below,  and  the  instinct  of  self-preservation  gives  him 
strength  to  stop,  hut  only  for  a  moment.  The  im¬ 
pulse  of  his  downward  progress  is  too  strong  to  be  re¬ 
sisted,  and  a  tierce  wind  from  behind  still  pursues  him. 
Forced  to  look  down,  his  brain  begins  to  swim ;  he 
loses  his  balance ;  he  falls  in ;  he  sinks ;  he  catches 
with  the  strength  of  desperation  at  a  twig  or  a  pro¬ 
jecting  point,  and  looks  up  from  the  mouth  of  that 
devouring  chasm  with  a  piercing  shriek  for  mercy. 
And  in  that  last,  dying,  and  despairing  upward  look, 
he  is  entirely  and  forever  undeceived.  He  knows 
what  he  has  done,  and  oh,  unutterable  anguish !  he 
knows  to  a  degree  which  plants  a  thousand  daggers 
in  his  dying  soul,  he  knows  what  he  has  lost.  For 
there,  far  above  him,  at  the  end  of  the  narrow  path 
v/hich  he  despises,  is  the  city  in  the  sky  which  he  had 
learned  to  laugh  at  as  a  baseless  vision.  But  he  sees 
it  no  longer  as  a  shadowy  pile  of  clouds.  Its  walls 
and  battlements  are  of  adamant ;  its  deep  founda¬ 
tions  reach  beyond  the  view  of  the  lost  sinner,  as  he 
loses  his  last  hold  upon  the  upper  world,  and  after 
unavailing  and  convulsive  struggles,  sinks,  sinks,  like 
lead  in  the  mighty  waters,  his  eye  still  fixed  upon 
that  city  with  foundations,  whose  builder  and  maker 
is  God,  until  it  is  withdrawn  to  be  fixed  forever  upon 
sights,  which,  God  forbid  that  you  or  I  should  ever  see. 

Let  me  for  one  moment  shift  the  scene,  and  show 
you  another  instance  of  illusion  crpially  powerful, 
but  oh  how  difiereiit  in  its  nature  and  its  end  !  Let 
me  show  y  a  small  company  of  pilgrims,  who  have 


EEBREWS  11,  10. 


271 


clioseii  the  rough,  narrow,  upward  path  which  leads 
away  from  the  green  valley  into  the  recesses  of  the 
bleak  and  barren  mountains.  Some  you  might  see 
passing  onwards  vdth  alacrity,  forgetting  all  below 
them  and  behind  them,  or  remembering  it  only  to  ac¬ 
celerate  their  progress  towards  that  city  with  founda¬ 
tions,  upon  which  their  eyes  are  fastened.  It  is  not 
of  these  that  I  would  speak. 

Others  I  might  show  you  pressing  on  in  the  same 
course  as  long  as  sunshine  lasts,  or  moonlight  gilds 
the  pinnacles  of  yonder  city  ;  but  when  black  clouds 
hide  the  sky,  and  thick  mists  veil  the  earth,  they  avert 
their  faces,  tliey  begin  to  linger,  and  to  cast  a  longing 
glance  into  the  depth  belov/  them,  where  the  world 
and  its  temptations  are  arrayed  in  fatal  splendour, 
and  from  which  the  voice  of  mirth  and  business  con¬ 
stantly  ascends,  until  sooner  or  later  they  hang  over 
the  edge  with  too  intense  a  curiosity,  and  what  fol¬ 
lows  is  only  known  by  the  sound  of  a  heavy  plunge 
in  some  depth  below. 

But  it  is  not  of  these  that  I  would  speak.  It  is  of 
one  who  neither  lingers  nor  looks  back,  nor  gazes 
down  into  the  valley,  but  whose  face  is  still  turned 
Zionward,  whose  progress  though  nov/  faster  and  now 
slower  is  perceptible  and  constant.  I  wish  to  show 
you  one  wdio,  while  he  thus  moves  onward  in  tho 
right  direction,  is  no  less  the  sul)jcct  of  illusion  than 
the  WTetch  whose  end  I  have  described  to  you. 

lie  journeys  towards  the  heavenly  city,  but  he 
sees  it  not.  Jerusalem  is  in  his  heart,  but  not  before 
his  eyes,  lie  even  dreams  that  he  lias  taken  the 
wrong  path.  Imagination  magnifies  the  dangers  of 


272 


SERMONS. 


tlie  journey.  Every  step  appears  to  lead  into  some 
hidden  snare,  and  every  stone  to  be  the  mark  of  some 
deep  pitfall.  Every  thicket  is  an  ambush  ;  every 
dark  spot  an  expected  place  of  conflict.  The  hardy 
plants  that  bloom  along  the  rugged  ]3ath  seem  poison¬ 
ous  ;  the  springs  provided  by  the  Master  for  his  pil¬ 
grims  are  passed  by  in  timid  and  suspicious  thirst. 
And  when  at  length  the  body  sinks  exhausted  and  in 
need  of  slumber,  all  seems  lost ;  and  the  man  of  little 
faith  sleeps  in  the  belief  that  he  shall  never  wake. 
And  when  he  does  awake,  it  is  only  to  a  repetition  of 
the  same  illusion.  He  is  still  afraid  that  he  shall 
never  reach  the  city.  He  is  still  unable  to  discover 
it  in  the  distance ;  he  will  not  look  for  it,  but  keeps 
his  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground ;  or  if  he  looks,  he  wdll 
not  look  to  the  right  point ;  or  if  he  looks  to  the  right 
point,  he  finds  the  mist  too  dense,  or  the  light  too 
bright  for  his  diseased  vision.  Or  if  he  sees  the  ob¬ 
ject,  he  refuses  to  believe  his  senses,  and  suspects  de¬ 
lusion  on  the  onl}^  point  where  he  is  free  from  it. 

Thus  goes  the  doubter  on,  often  ready  to  lie  down 
and  die,  and  sometimes  tempted  to  go  back  or  turn 
aside,  but  still  moving  onward  because  Christ  is  in  his 
lieart,  and  the  secret  hope  that,  notwithstanding  all 
his  fears,  he  shall  yet  appear  in  Zion  before  God. 
But  see,  the  prospect  changes.  Beal  dangers  now 
arise.  The  storm  which  deluges  the  valley  sweeps 
across  the  mountain  also.  The  doubting  Christian 
gives  up  all  for  lost.  But  the  very  dangers  which 
alarm  his  fears,  quicken  his  footsteps,  and  althougli 
he  may  believe  that  he  is  going  wrong,  the  tempest 
and  the  earthquake  drive  him  on  and  up,  until  the 


HEBREWS  11,  10. 


273 


last  ascent  is  gained,  until  tlie  last  clond  breaks  away, 
and  lie  who  tlioiiglit  himself  approaching  to  the  verge 
of  an  abyss,  finds  himself  standing  on  an  everlasting 
rock,  and  at  the  threshold  of  an  everlasting  door.  If 
shame  can  tlien  be  felt,  he  blushes  as  he  looks  back 
for  a  moment  at  the  scene  of  his  imaginary  ter¬ 
rors,  which  now  seem  so  sweet  ;  the  sun  breaks 
out  upon  the  path  which  he  has  trodden,  and  glad¬ 
dens  every  dark  spot  where  he  wept  or  trembled ; 
the  noises  which  once  terrified  him  and  have  still  pur¬ 
sued  him,  now  begin  to  blend  with  shouts  and  songs 
of  triumph  within  ;  the  everlasting  doors  lift  up  their 
heads,  and  with  one  farewell  look  at  earth’s  baseless 
fabrics,  the  emancipated  soul  enters,  never  to  return, 
the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose  builder  and 
maker  is  God. 


VOL.  II. — 12"* 


XV. 


1  Thessalonians  6,  25. — Brethren,  pray  for  us. 

This  brief  request,  standing,  as  it  does,  in  a  series 
of  laconic  exhortations,  is  a  striking  illustration  of  the 
importance  which  the  Scriptures  attach  to  intercessory- 
prayer.  Rejoice  evermore,”  pi’ay  without  ceasing,” 
“  quench  not  the  Spirit,”  “  despise  not  prophesyings,” 
“  prove  all  things,  hold  fast  that  which  is  good,”  ab¬ 
stain  from  all  appearance  of  evil ;  ”  these  are  some  of 
tlie  precepts  with  which  it  stands  connected.  With 
an  evident  design  to  close  his  epistle  with  a  series  of 
pointed  practical  directions,  the  apostle  gives  a  place 
among  them  not  only  to  the  general  precept,  pray 
without  ceasing,”  but  also  to  the  special  request, 
“brethren,  p>ray  for  us.”  The  request  itself  is  one 
very  frequently  repeated  in  the  Fauline  epistles,  under 
different  forms,  but  always  expressive  of  the  writer’s 
confidence  in  the  real  efficacy  of  such  intercessions,  as 
means  of  spiritual  good  to  himself,  and  of  furtherance 
to  the  glorious  cause  in  which  he  was  engaged.  To 
the  Hebrews,  Paul  says,  “  Pray  for  us,  for  we  trust 
we  have  a  good  conscience,  willing  in  all  things  to 
live  honestly ;  but  I  beseech  you  the  rather  to  do  this, 


275 


1  TIIESSALONIANS  r>,  25. 

tliat  I  may  be  restored  to  you  the  sooner.”  (Heb.  13, 
18.  19.)  The  same  request  is  made  to  tlie  Romans 
■\vitli  reference  to  tbe  same  result,  but  with  greater 
earnestness  of  importunity.  “  Row  I  beseech  you, 
brethren,  for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ’s  sake  and  for  the 
love  of  the  Spirit,  tliad  ye  strive  together  with  me  in 
your  prayers  to  God  for  me,  that  I  may  be  delivered 
fj’om  them  that  do  not  believe  in  Judea,  that  my  ser- 
vic^e  for  Jerusalem  may  be  accepted  of  the  saints,  that 
I  may  come  unto  you  with  joy  by  the  will  of  God,  and 
may  with  you  be  refreshed.”  (Rom.  15,  30-32.)  In 
asking  the  same  favour,  and  exacting  the  same  duty  of 
the  Ephesians,  he  sets  before  them,  as  the  end  to  be  at¬ 
tained,  his  greater  fidelity  and  success  in  the  perform¬ 
ance  of  his  ministerial  functions,  praying  always 
with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in  the  Sj)irit,  and 
watching  thereunto  with  all  perseverance  and  suppli¬ 
cation  for  all  saints,  and  for  me,  that  utterance  may 
be  given  unto  me,  that  I  may  open  my  mouth  boldly, 
to  make  known  the  mystery  of  the  gospel,  for  which 
I  am  an  ambassador  in  bonds,  that  therein  I  may 
speak  boldly  as  I  ought  to  speak.”  (Eph.  6,  18-20.) 

In  all  these  passages  there  are  several  points  of  re¬ 
semblance,  connecting  them  together,  and  identifying 
them  as  characteristic  manifestations  of  one  and  the 
same  Spirit,  the  same  personality.  In  the  first  place, 
there  is  the  absorption  of  the  whole  soul,  with  its  pow¬ 
ers  and  affections,  in  the  one  great  object  of  the  writer’s 
life.  In  the  next  place,  there  is  the  habitual  disposition 
to  do  something  more  than  think  of  it,  or  wish  for  its  at¬ 
tainment,  the  disposition  to  employ  v/ith  energy  the  ne¬ 
cessary  means  and  all  the  means  available.  In  the  third 


276 


SERMONS. 


place,  tliere  is  tlie  appearance,  or  ratlier  tlie  conclusive 
evidence  of  a  tliorongli  persuasion,  tliat  among  these 
means  the  prayers  of  true  believers  held  a  place  and  an 
important  place  ;  that  the  apostle  asked  them  and  em 
joined  them,  not  merely  as  a  saintary  exercise  to  those 
whom  he  addressed,  not  merely  as  a  token  of  affection 
and  of  confidence  on  his  part  towards  them,  bnt  as  a 
real  efhcacions  means  to  the  attainment  of  tliat  end  for 
which  he  lived  and  was  prepared  to  die,  as  actually 
helping  him,  procuring  him  divine  grace,  and  in  a  cer¬ 
tain  sense  securing  his  success,  and  even  his  salvation. 
This  idea,  wdiich  is  not  obscurely  implied,  in  the 
passages  already  cpioted,  is  distinctly  expressed  in 
others,  as  when  wuiting  to  the  Church  at  Corinth, 
after  speaking  of  the  dangers  and  sufferings  from 
which  God  had  delivered  him,  he  adds,  in  whom 
^Ye  trust  that  ho  will  yet  deliver  us,  ye  also  helping 
together  by  prayer  for  us,  that  for  the  gift  bestowmd 
upon  us  by  the  means  of  many  persons,  thanks  may 
be  given  by  many  on  our  behalff’  (2  Cor.  1,  10.  11.) 
But  the  strongest  expression  of  this  confidence,  in  con¬ 
nection  with  the  great  apostle’s  governing  desire,  and 
•wo  may  almost  say  his  ruling  passion,  is  contained  in 
his  address  to  the  Bhilippians,  with  respect  to  one 
of  the  severest  trials  'which  he  had  experienced. 

AVhat  then  ?  notwithstanding,  every  way,  whether 
in  pretence  or  in  truth,  Christ  is  preached,  and  I 
therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and  will  rejoice.  For  I  know 
that  this  shall  turn  to  my  salvation  through  your 
prayer  and  the  supply  of  the  Spirit  of  Jesus  Christ, 
according  to  my  earnest  expectation  and  my  hope 
that  in  nothing  T  shall  be  ashamed,  but  that  wdth  all 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


2YT 


boldness,  as  always,  so  now  also,  Clirist  sliall  be  mag¬ 
nified  in  my  body,  wlietber  it  be  by  life  or  by  death  ; 
for  to  me  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is  gain.”  (Phil. 
1,  18-21.) 

With  this  sublime  expression  of  humility  and  tri¬ 
umph,  of  indifference  and  superiority  to  life  and  death, 
and  at  the  same  time  of  believing  reliance  on  the 
power  even  of  human  intercession,  I  close  the  exam¬ 
ples  of  Paul’s  habitual  desire  and  entreaty  for  the 
prayers  of  others.  What  has  been  cited  will  suffice 
to  show  that,  at  his  own. request,  and  in  obedience  to 
liis  own  command,  prayer  was  made  without  ceas¬ 
ing  of  the  church  unto  God  for  him,”  (Acts  12,  5,) 
throughout  the  wide  field  of  his  apostolic  labours,  in 
Italy,  in  Greece,  in  Asia  Minor,  and  in  Palestine ;  at 
Pome,  at  Corinth,  at  Philippi,  at  Thessalonica,  at 
Ephesus,  and  among  tlie  churches  of  the  Hebrew 
Christians.  This  extensive  organization  of  a  system¬ 
atic  and  concerted  intercession,  in  behalf  of  the  apos¬ 
tle  and  his  Avork,  is  a  practical  demonstration  that  he 
not  only  belieAmd  in  the  necessity  and  efficacy  of 
prayer  in  general,  but  of  intercession  in  particular,  and 
that  so  far  from  regarding  the  ministry  or  even  the 
apostleship  as  superior  to  this  means  of  grace,  as  ex¬ 
empted  from  the  need  of  it,  he  looked  upon  the  ex¬ 
altation  of  his  office,  and  the  greatness  of  his  work,  as 
creating  a  peculiar  and  more  urgent  necessity  for  this 
assistance,  that  his  official  movements,  and  his  inter¬ 
course  with  the  churches  might  be  unobstructed ;  that 
his  mouth  might  be  opened  to  speak  boldly  as  ho 
ought  to  speak ;  that  the  very  trials  and  discourage¬ 
ments  with  which  he  met  might  tend  to  the  salvation 


278 


SERMONS. 


of  himself  and  others,  and  that,  whether  living  or 
dying,  he  might  gain  his  darling  end,  that  of  magni¬ 
fying  Christ.  With  such  an  end  in  view,  and  with 
such  convictions  of  the  means  by  which  it  was  to  be 
aecom23lished,  Paul  uttered  volumes  when  he  wrote 
these  four  words.  Brethren^  pixty  for  us. 

Let  ns  now  consider,  for  a  moment,  whether  Paul 
regarded  this  important  spiritnaJ  service  as  incumbent 
only  upon  others  towards  himself,  or  whether  he  ex¬ 
pected  it  to  be  reciprocal,  both  as  an  obligation  and 
a  benefit.  The  solution  of  this  question  will  be 
greatly  facilitated,  and  the  result  rendered  far  more 
striking,  by  applying  the  inquiry  to  those  very 
churches  upon  which  we  have  seen  the  apostle  so  im¬ 
portunately  calling  for  their  intercessions.  ISTear  the 
end  of  his  epistle  to  the  Pomans,  we  have  heard  him 
asking  “for  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ’s  sake  and  for  the 
love  of  the  Spirit,”  that  they  would  strive  together 
with  him  in  prayer  to  God  for  him.  (Pom.  15,  30.) 
The  prayers  of  the  apostle,  in  which  they  are  asked 
to  join,  might  seem  to  be  prayers  only  for  himself  and 
for  his  work.  But  near  the  beginning  of  the  same 
epistle,  with  a  solemn  appeal  to  the  Searcher  of  hearts, 
expressing  his  anxiety  to  be  believed,  and  implying 
the  importance  of  the  fact  in  question,  he  says,  “  God 
is  my  witness,  whom  I  serve  with  my  spirit  in  the 
gospel  of  his  Son,  (still  keeping  in  his  own  view  and 
the  view  of  others  his  official  relations  to  the  Church 
and  to  its  head,)  that  without  ceasing,  I  make  mention 
of  you  always  in  my  prayers.”  (Pom.  1,  9.)  Observe 
the  strength  of  the  expressions,  always,  without  ceas¬ 
ing,  lest  he  should  be  understood  as  speaking  only  of 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


219 


periodical  or  occasional  intercession,  and  not  of  tire 
liabitnal  and  constant  burden  of  liis  prayers.  Wliat 
follows  mi  gilt  indeed  seem  to  describe  even  Paurs 
own  prayers,  as  liaving  reference  simply  to  himself, 
“  making  request  if  by  any  means  now  at  length  I 
might  have  a  prosperous  journey  by  the  will  of  God 
to  come  nnto  yon.’^  (Pom.  1,  10.)  But  hoAV  utterly 
unselfish  even  this  desire  Avas,  breaks  out  in  the  next 
sentence,  for  I  long  to  see  yon,  that  I  may  impart 
unto  you  some  spiritual  gift,  to  the  end  that  ye  may 
be  established.’’  (Rom.  1,  11.)  It  AA^as  for  their  sake 
that  he  thus  desired  to  come  to  them,  yet  likcAvise  for 
his  own,  “  that  is  that  I  may  be  comforted  together 
Avith  you,  or  jointly  comforted  in  yon,  by  the  mutual 
faith  both  of  you  and  me,”  (Rom.  1,  12,)  a  beantiful 
expression  of  the  truth  that  he  who  prays  for  others 
not  only  Avill  pray  for  himself,  but  does  so  in  the  A^ery 
act  of  intercession,  by  identifying  his  OAvn  spiritual 
interest  Avitli  that  of  those  for  whom  he  prays,  and 
legarding  every  blessing  granted  to  them  as  being 
more  or  less  directly  a  blessing  to  himself. 

Wg  have  seen  that  Paul  prayed  for  the  Romans 
always,  Avithout  ceasing.  In  like  manner  he  says  to 
the  Ephesians,  (1,  15.  16,)  I,  also,  after  I  hoard  of 
your  faith  in  the  Lord  Jesus,  and  love  to  all  the  saints, 
cease  not  to  give  thanks  for  you,  making  mention  of 
you  in  my  prayers.”  Here  again  the  constancy  of 
Ids  intercessions  is  particularly  mentioned  ;  bnt  there 
are  tAvo  additional  circumstances  not  to  be  neglected. 
The  one  is,  that  the  apostle’s  prayers  for  the  Ephesian 
Christians,  included  thanksgiving  for  Avhat  they  AA^ere 
already  and  had  already  experienced.  The  other  is, 


280 


SERMONS. 


that  these  attainments  in  the  spiritual  life,  although 
calling  for  grateful  recognition,  did  not  preclude  the 
necessity  of  earnest  prayer  that  God  would  grant  to 
them  the  spirit  of  wisdom  and  of  revelation,  in  the 
knowledge  of  him  and  of  the  riches  of  that  glorious 
salvation  to  which  he  had  called  them.  Gratitude 
for  past  gifts  did  hut  stir  up  the  apostle  to  ask  more. 
To  the  Philippians,  through  whose  prayer  the  Apostle 
knew  that  even  his  sorest  trials  should  turn  to  his  sal¬ 
vation,  (Phil.  1.  19,)  he  says,  as  he  said  to  the  Ephe¬ 
sians,  I  thank  my  God  upon  every  mention  or  re¬ 
membrance  of  you,  always^  in  every  prayer  of  mine 
for  you  all,  making  request  with  joy.’’  (Phil.  1,  3.  4.) 
Here  again  the  prayer  is  a  daily,  a  perpetual  prayer, 
a  thankful,  nay,  a  joyful  prayer,  a  prayer  for  further, 
greater  gifts,  increasing  knowledge,  holiness  and  use¬ 
fulness,  as  instruments  in  glorifying  God — And 
this  I  pray,  that  your  love  may  abound  yet  more  and 
more  in  knowledge  and  in  all  judgment,  that  ye  may 
be  sincere  and  without  offence  until  the  day  of  Jesus 
Christ,  being  filled  with  the  fruits  of  righteousness 
which  are  by  Jesus  Christ  unto  the  glory  and  praise 
of  God.”  (Phil.  1,  9.  11.)  To  the  same  Thessalonians 
whom  Paul  exhorts  to  pray  without  ceasing,  (1  Thess. 
5,  17,)  and  to  pray  for  him,  (ib.  5,  25,)  he  could  say 
and  does  say,  ‘‘We  give  thanks  to  God  always  for  you 
all,  making  mention  of  you  in  our  prayers,  ”  (1  Thess. 
1,  2.) — and  again,  with  his  favourite  combination  ot 
thanksgiving,  joy,  and  importunate  desire — “What 
thanks  can  we  render  to  God  again  for  you,  for  all 
the  joy  wherewith  we  joy  for  your  sakes  before  our 
God,  night  and  day  praying  exceedingly  that  we 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


281 


might  see  yoiir  face  and  might  perfect  that  which  is 
lacking  in  yoiir  faith  (1  Thess.  3,  9.  10.)  As  he 
shows  how  far  he  was  from  stagnant  acquiescence 
in  what  he  had  obtained  already  for  them,  by  his 
prayers  for  their  advancement  in  the  spiritual  life,  so 
he  shows  how  far  he  is  from  flattering  their  spiritual 
pride,  by  making  the  deficiency  of  their  fliith  a  reason 
for  continuing  to  pray  even  for  those  whose  actual 
attainments  he  regarded  as  a  matter  of  gratitude 
and  joy.  In  the  same  spirit,  he  says  in  another 
epistle  to  the  same  Thessalonians,  we  pray  always 
for  you  that  our  God  would  count  you  worthy  of  this 
calling,  and  fulfil  all  the  good  pleasure  of  his  good¬ 
ness  and  the  work  of  faitli  with  power,  that  the  name 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  may  be  glorified  in  you,  and 
ye  in  him,  according  to  the  grace  of  our  God,  and  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.”  (2  Thess.  1,  11.  12.)  I  shall  only 
add,  under  this  head,  that  for  the  same  Corintliians, 
wdiom  Paul  describes  as. helping  together  by  prayer 
for  him  and  his  associates,  he  prays  to  God,  in  tlie 
same  epistle,  that  they  may  do  no  evil,  and  rising  still 
higher,  that  they  may  be  perfect.  (2  Cor.  13,  7.  9.) 

It  is  surely  no  fortuitous  coincidence,  that  in  these 
five  cases,  the  same  persons,  whose  prayers  he  im- 
j^ortunately  asks  for  himself,  are  represented  as  the 
subjects  of  his  own  unceasing,  thankful,  joyful,  fer¬ 
vent  intercessions.  The  general  inference  is  there¬ 
fore  obvious  enough,  that  one  of  the  most  uniform 
and  intimate  relations  which  subsisted  between  Paul 
and  his  spiritual  children,  throughout  the  vast  field  of 
his  labours,  was  that  of  mutual  intercession,  not  as  a 
mere  interchange  of  spiritual  compliments,  but  as  an 


2S2 


SERMONS. 


indispensable  and  efficacious  means  of  grace.  That 
this  was  not  an  incident  of  the  apostleship,  a  relation 
growing  out  of  any  thing  peculiar  in  the  circumstan¬ 
ces  under  which  these  Christians  were  converted,  is 
clear,  not  only  from  the  absence  of  any  terms  imply¬ 
ing  such  restriction,  and  from  the  fact  that  Paul’s  fel¬ 
low-labourers  are  more  than  once  apparently  included 
with  himself  in  the  profession  and  request,  but  also 
from  the  obvious  consideration  that,  as  soon  as  we 
are  able  to  perceive  and  willing  to  admit  the  existence 
of  sufficient  reasons  for  this  mutual  relation  in  the 
case  of  the  apostle  and  his  spiritual  children,  every 
one  of  these  reasons  bears  with  double  force  upon  the 
case  of  other  ministers  and  other  converts.  If  they 
wdio  had  received  the  gospel  under  the  impression  of 
inspired  preaching  and  attended  by  the  tokens  of 
miraculous  power,  needed  still  the  wrestling  inter¬ 
cessions  of  the  man  of  God,  to  shield  them  against 
danger,  to  preserve  them  from  error,  and  to  fill  up 
Avhat  was  lacking  of  their  faith,  how  much  more  must 
this  necessity  exist,  or  rather,  how  much  clearer  is  it, 
in  the  case  of  those  who  have  had  no  such  out¬ 
ward  pledges  of  divine  interposition.  And  if  he, 
clothed  with  extraordinary  powers,  accredited  from 
heaven  by  the  signs  of  an  apostle,  had  occasion  so 
repeatedly  and  earnestly  to  ask  the  prayers  of  others 
for  his  personal  safety  and  the  progress  of  his  work, 
how  much  more  pressing  should  the  sense  of  this  ne¬ 
cessity  be  on  the  hearts  of  those  who  with  ordinary 
powers  are  called  to  the  same  ditficult  and  responsi¬ 
ble  work. 

If  these  considerations  are  sufficient  to  extend  the 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


283 


application  of  tlie  principle  involved  in  the  precepts 
and  the  practice  of  Paul,  to  all  Christ’s  ministers  and 
those  who  are  in  any  sense  their  spiritual  children,  it 
is  easy  to  foresee  that  the  very  same  reasoning  will 
carry  us  still  further,  and  require  us  to  recognize  the 
right  and  duty  of  mutual  intercession  as  extending  to 
all  Christians,  and  as  arising,  not  from  any  peculiar 
official  relations,  hut  from  a  common  character  and 
interest.  Whatever  special  motives  and  incitements 
to  the  duty  may  be  afforded  by  the  mutual  relations 
of  the  teacher  and  the  taught,  the  spiritual  father  and 
the  spiritual  children,  the  essential  ground  of  the  ne¬ 
cessity  in  question  must  lie  back  of  these,  in  some¬ 
thing  not  conlined  to  these  relations,  but  existing  in 
the  common  experience  of  all  believers.  Especially 
is  this  the  case  if  we  regard  the  right  and  duty  of 
mutual  intercession,  not  as  a  mere  token  of  affection, 
but  as  an  appointed  and  effective  means  of  grace,  as 
well  to  those  who  ask  as  those  for  whom  they  ask. 
If  God  has  indeed  ordained  this  as  an  efficacious  in¬ 
strument  of  spiritual  good,  it  cannot  be  supposed  that 
he  intended  to  restrict  its  use  and  operation  to  the 
case  of  those  who  sustain  what  may  be  called  an  acci¬ 
dental  relation  to  each  other  in  the  family  of  Christ. 
The  necessity  of  mutual  intercession  may  indeed  ap¬ 
pear  to  some  to  be  so  clearly  involved  in  tlie  admit¬ 
ted  necessity  of  prayer  in  general,  as  to  supersede  all 
argument  for  or  against  it.  The  difference  between 
prayer  for  others  and  ourselves,  being  merely  cir¬ 
cumstantial  ;  the  essence  of  the  prayer,  as  consisting 
in  sincere  desire  addressed  to  God,  for  some  thing  in 
accordance  with  his  will,  is  of  course  the  same  in 


284 


SERMONS. 


either  case.  The  exclusive  object  of  address  is  still 
the  same.  The  same  moral  qualities,  sincerity,  hu¬ 
mility  and  faith,  are  requisite  in  both  to  make  the 
prayer  acceptable.  The  warrant  of  encouragement  to 
pray,  in  either  case,  is  furnished  by  God’s  mercy  in 
the  precious  promises  with  which  his  word  abounds. 
There  is  but  one  throne  of  grace  and  one  way  of  ac¬ 
cess  to  it.  The  meritorious  intercession  of  the  Son, 
and  the  auxiliary  intercession  of  the  Spirit,  are  in  all 
cases  equally  necessary. 

Why  then  should  the  question  even  be  propound¬ 
ed,  Whether  prayer  for  others  is  a  right  and  duty  of 
all  Christians  ?  hTot  of  course  because  the  answer  is 
in  any  measure  doubtful,  or  the  grounds  on  which  it 
rests  in  any  measure  recondite  or  susceptible  of  novel 
illustration,  but  simply  because  a  brief  consideration 
of  these  grounds  may  serve  to  place  the  duty  in  its 
proper  place,  not  only  as  a  duty,  but  as  an  important 
means  of  grace.  Because  we  are  familiar  with  the 
precepts  and  examples  of  the  Scri|)tures  on  this  sub¬ 
ject,  it  does  not  follow  that  truth  respecting  it  might 
have  been  inferred  as  a  matter  of  course  from  the  gen- 
ei’al  teachings  of  God’s  word  respecting  prayer,  even 
without  specific  teachings  as  to  this  kind  of  prayer.  It 
is  conceivable,  to  say  the  least,  that  the  efficacious  in¬ 
fluence  of  prayer  might  have  been  confined  to  the  sup¬ 
pliant  himself.  Christian  benevolence,  it  is  true,  must 
prompt  him  to  desire  the  good  of  others,  and  to  use  the 
necessary  means  for  its  promotion.  But  this  might  not 
have  been  among  the  number.  The  power  of  men  to 
help  each  other  might  have  been  restricted  to  the  use 
of  physical  and  moral  means  externally.  Such  an 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


285 


arrangement  is  indeed  so  foreign  from  onr  scriptural 
associations  and  habitual  ideas  as  to  the  duty  and  the 
means  of  doing  good  to  one  another,  that  we  may  find 
it  hard  to  form  a  definite  idea  of  it  as  really  existing. 
But  as  no  man  can  believe,  or  repent,  or  obey  for 
another ;  as  each  man  must  in  this  respect  hear  his 
own  burden ;  as  the  wants  and  dangers  of  each  are 
numberless,  requiring  all  the  grace  that  he  can  ask  ; 
it  would  not  he  absurd,  in  the  absence  of  explicit  rev¬ 
elation  and  experience,  to  suppose  that  every  man 
was  called  upon  to  I3ray  for  himself,  for  the  pardon 
of  his  own  sins,  for  the  sanctification  of  his  own  cor¬ 
rupt  nature,  for  his  own  deliverance  from  the  power 
of  temptation,  and  his  own  preparation  for  the  joys 
of  heaven,  without  presuming  to  address  the  throne 
of  grace  in  behalf  of  any  other,  however  strong  his 
sympathy,  however  ardent  his  desires  for  their  good. 
Such  a  supposition,  however  foreign  from  the  actual 
state  of  things  is,  in  itself,  no  more  surprising  tlian 
that  all  participation  in  the  faith,  repentance  and 
obedience  of  each  other,  is  impossible  to  true  believ¬ 
ers,  however  earnestly  they  may  desire  to  supply  each 
other’s  lack  of  faith  or  service,  or  to  bear  each  other’s 
burdens.  On  these  grounds,  and  in  this  sense,  the 
right  and  duty  of  intercessory  prayer,  however  certain 
and  familiar,  may  be  represented  as  a  doctrine  of  rev¬ 
elation,  rather  than  a  necessary  rational  deduction  from 
the  necessity  of  prayer  in  general,  as  a  means  of  pro¬ 
curing  the  divine  favour,  and  an  immediate  source  of 
salutary  spiritual  infiuence.  This  view  of  the  matter,  so 
far  from  obscuring  the  glory  of  divine  grace  as  beheld 
in  the  economy  of  man’s  salvation,  greatly  enhances 


286 


SERMONS. 


it  by  maldiig  that  a  free  gift,  a  gratuitous  concession, 
which  might  otherwise  have  seemed  to  he  a  natural 
necessity.  If  men  might  jnstly  have  been  suffered  to 
pray  only  for  themselves,  as  they  are  actually  suffered 
to  repent  and  believe  only  for  themselves,  then  the 
privilege  of  doing  good  to  others  by  onr  prayers,  and 
of  deriving  benefit  from  theirs,  is  a  distinguishing 
feature  in  the  gospel  system,  and  a  notable  instance 
of  divine  compassion.  That  the  system  does,  in  point 
of  fact,  include  such  a  provision,  is  a  proposition 
which  requires  no  proof.  That  it  occupies  a  prom¬ 
inent  position,  and  is  insisted  on  as  highly  important, 
is  sufficiently  established  by  Paul’s  precept  and  ex¬ 
ample  as  already  exhibited.  We  have  seen  that  with 
a  frequency  and  emphasis  too  marked  to  be  mistaken, 
he  addresses  to  the  same  persons  urgent  requests  for 
their  prayers  in  his  behalf,  and  strong  asseverations 
of  his  constancy  in  prayer  for  them.  We  have  seen 
that  the  blessings  which  he  hopes  to  obtain  through 
their  intercession,  are  deliverance  from  danger,  con¬ 
solation  under  sorrow,  but  especially  boldness  and 
success  in  his  ministry,  and  more  abundant  honour 
to  the  name  of  Christ ;  while  the  mercies  which  he 
asks  on  their  behalf  are  steadfastness,  increase  of  faith, 
of  love,  of  knowledge,  more  abundant  usefulness,  and 
full  salvation.  From  these  examples  we  may  easily 
deduce  a  safe  and  comprehensive  rule  as  to  the  ob¬ 
jects  and  the  compass  of  our  intercession. 

The  induction  may  however  be  made  more  ex¬ 
tensive  by  inquiring  briefly  what  other  cases  are  par¬ 
ticularly  mentioned  in  connection  with  this  duty,  that 
is  to  say  for  whom  and  for  what  the  Scriptures  teach 


1  TIIESSALONIAKS  5,  25. 


ns  eitlier  by  precept  or  example  that  we  may  or 
ongiit  to  intercede.  Tlie  riglit  and  duty  once  estab¬ 
lished,  it  is  true,  there  can  be  no  practical  difficulty 
in  applying  the  principle  to  special  cases,  any  more 
than  in  applying  the  general  rule  of  charity  or  Chris¬ 
tian  love.  It  has  pleased  God,  however,  to  incite  and 
regulate  onr  best  affections,  not  by  general  rules 
merely,  but  by  particular  directions  and  examples,  so 
as  to  leave  ns  under  no  donbt  either  with  respect  to 
onr  right  and  dnty  in  the  general,  or  to  particular 
cases  and  emergencies.  Lest  the  mention  of  some 
cases  should  be  understood  as  simply  exclusive  of  all 
otliers,  we  have  general  precepts  of  the  largest  kind. 

I  exhort  therefore,  that  first  of  all,  supplications, 
prayers,  intercessions,  should  be  made  for  all  men,’’ 
then  with  a  distinct  specification  of  a  certain  class, 
for  kings,  and  all  that  are  in  authority,”  not  merely 
for  their  o\vn  sake,  but  for  the  peace  of  society  and 
the  edification  of  the  church,  “  that  we  may  lead  a 
quiet  and  peaceable  life  in  all  godliness  and  hon¬ 
esty.”  (1  Tim.  2, 1.  2.)  But  wliile  we  are  thus  author¬ 
ized  and  taught  to  l3ray  for  men  in  general,  and  for 
that  class  on  whom  the  peace  and  welfare  of  the 
wliole  depend,  we  are  especially  encouraged  to  expect 
a  blessing  on  our  prayers  for  true  believers,  praying 
always  with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in  the  Spirit, 
and  watching  thereunto  with  all  perseverance  and 
supplication  for  all  saints.”  (Eph.  0,  18.)  A  difierent 
apostle  exhorts  believers  to  “  pi’-^y  one  for  another,” 
(dames  5, 16,)  that  they  “may  be  healed,”  whether  ol 
bodily  or  spiritual  maladies,  lor  both  are  mentioned 
in  the  context.  This  peculiar  obligation  to  pray  for 


288 


SERMONS. 


all  saints  does  not  destroy  onr  riglit  to  pray  for  sin¬ 
ners,  and  especially  for  tliose  wlio  are  particnlarly 
near  to  ns.  While  we  pray  that  saints  may  he  saved 
from  error  and  from  temporal  distress,  we  should  pray 
that  sinners  may  he  saved  from  death  and  everlasting 
ruin.  Paul’s  heartfelt  desire  and  prayer  to  God  for 
Israel  was  that  they  might  he  saved.”  (Pom.  10,  1.) 
So  intense  was  his  desire  for  this  blessing  that  he 
could  wish  himself  accursed  from  Christ  for  his  hreth- 
ren,  his  kinsmen  according  to  the  flesh.”  (Pom.  9,  3.) 

While  these  specifications  teach  us  that  the  most 
expansive  Christian  benevolence  has  no  need  to  con¬ 
sider  itself  straitened  in  God,  there  are  others  to  warn 
us  against  being  straitened  in  ourselves.  As  we  are 
taught  not  to  restrain  prayer  before  God  on  account 
of  exceptions  which  we  may  suppose  him  to  have 
made,  so  likewise  we  are  taught  not  to  restrain  it  on 
account  of  exceptions  which  we  make  ourselves. 
To  pray  for  children  may  be  deemed  a  thankless  or  a 
needless  form  ;  and  so  when  “  there  were  brought 
nnto  ”  our  Saviour  “  little  children  that  he  should  put 
his  hands  on  them  and  pray,  the  disciples  rebuked 
those  that  brought  them,  but  when  Jesus  saw  it,  he 
w^as  much  displeased  and  said,  suffer  little  children 
to  come  unto  me  and  forbid  them  not,  for  of  such  is 
the  kingdom  of  heaven,  and  he  took  them  up  in  his 
arms,  put  his  hands  upon  them,  and  blessed  them.” 
This  was  an  exercise  of  his  divine  prerogative.  The 
only  way  in  which  a  mere  man  can  effectually  bless 
is  by  invoking  the  blessing  of  God,  i.  ^.,  by  praying 
for  the  object.  This  example  of  the  Saviour,  there¬ 
fore,  furnishes  a  rule  for  our  intercessions,  by  teaciiing 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25. 


289 


us  tliat  even  little  eliildren  may  be  prayed  for.  Here 
the  exception,  if  made  at  all,  would  rest  on  tlie  sup¬ 
posed  insignificance  of  the  object. 

But  there  are  other  cases  where  a  deeper  feeling 
and  a  stronger  motive  may  be  supposed  to  hinder  in¬ 
tercession.  To  pray  for  fellow-Christians  is  an  obli¬ 
gation  easily  acknowledged.  To  pray  even  for  sin¬ 
ners  if  they  be  our  friends,  can  scarcely  be  denied  to 
be  a  duty.  To  pray  for  those  unknown  to  us,  or  those 
to  whom  we  are  indifferent,  is  still  an  obligation 
which  may  be  externally  discharged  at  least  without 
repugnance.  But  to  pray  for  enemies  might  seem  to 
be  impossible,  or  if  possible,  extravagant,  the  mere  ro¬ 
mance  of  charity,  if  we  did  not  know  it  to  be  the 
glory  of  the  Christian  morality,  the  triumph  of  the 
gospel  over  Jew  and  Gentile.  “Ye  have  heard  that 
it  hath  been  said  thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  and 
hate  thine  enemy  ;  but  I  say  unto  you,  love  your  en¬ 
emies,  bless  them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them 
that  hate  you,  and  pray  for  them  that  despitefully  use 
you  and  persecute  you.”  (Matt.  5,  44.)  Well  might 
the  Saviour  add  to  such  a  precept,  “  be  ye  therefore 
perfect  as  your  Father  in  heaven  is  perfect.”  Ho 
religion  or  morality  but  that  which  aims  at  the  high¬ 
est  perfection  could  find  place  for  such  a  privilege  or 
such  a  duty.  Hay,  not  only  are  our  enemies  to  be 
the  subjects  of  our  intercessions,  but  forgiveness  of 
injuries  is  made  the  condition  of  our  being  heard  at 
all  for  others  or  ourselves.  By  this  variety  of  precept 
and  example,  wo  are  not  only  assured  of  our  right 
and  duty  to  pray  for  others  as  well  as  for  ourselves, 
but  are  taught,  in  every  variety  of  form,  that  in  our 

VOL.  II. — IJ 


290 


SERMONS. 


application  of  tlie  general  rule,  we  need  make  no  ex* 
ceptions  on  account  of  tke  unwortliiness  or  insignifi¬ 
cancy  of  tlie  object  prayed  for,  and  we  must  make  no 
exceptions,  in  compliance  with  a  spirit  of  malignant 
partiality.  ^Nevertheless,  we  may  and  must  pray 
more  earnestly  for  some  than  others.  "While  we  own 
the  obligation  to  make  supplications,  prayers,  inter¬ 
cessions,  and  giving  of  thanks  for  all  men,  and  espe¬ 
cially  for  kings  and  all  in  authority,  that  we  jnay 
lead  quiet  and  peaceable  lives  in  all  godliness  and 
honesty,  it  is  natural  and  right  that  we  should  pray 
with  all  prayer  and  supplication  in  the  Spirit,  and 
watch  thereunto  with  all  perseverance  and  supplica¬ 
tion  for  all  saints,  and  even  among  these  we  may  pray 
Avith  special  emphasis  for  God’s  ambassadors,  that  ut¬ 
terance  may  be  given  them,  or  for  his  neAV-born  chil¬ 
dren  that  they  may  be  sincere  and  without  offence 
until  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.  We  may  pray  for  all 
men,  but  there  are  some  who  have  a  special  right  to 
say  to  us  and  Ave  to  them.  Brethren^  jpray  for  iis. 

To  the  questions,  may  Ave  pray  for  others  ?  must 
AA"e  pray  for  others  ?  a  sufficient  ansAver  seems  to  have 
been  given  from  the  Avord  of  God.  To  the  further 
question,  whether  Ave  sufficiently  appreciate  the  value 
of  this  doctrine,  and  its  influence  upon  the  AAdiole  con¬ 
dition  of  the  Christian,  Ave  may  all,  perhaps,  safely 
and  sincerely  ansAver  no.  In  order  to  recoAmr  or  ob¬ 
tain  a  correct  notion  of  the  value  of  sah^ation,  it  is 
not  unusual  to  recur  to  the  position  that  Avithout  in¬ 
justice,  and  without  detracting  even  from  his  good¬ 
ness,  God  might  have  left  the  Avorld  to  perish  Avithout 
hope.  But  even  supposing  that  he  meant  to  save 


1  THESSALONIANS  5,  25 


291 


some  from  eternal  misery,  lie  might  have  left  them 
in  a  clnhioiis  state  of  mingled  good  and  evil  like  the 
present  life.  Or  even  if  he  meant  to  make  them  ulti¬ 
mately  blessed,  he  might  have  suffered  ages  of  expnr- 
gatory  siitfering  to  intervene.  But  God  has  magnified 
the  riches  of  his  wisdom,  power,  and  grace,  by  reveal¬ 
ing  a  method  of  total  deliverance  from  evil,  and  of 
introduction  to  eternal  bliss,  directly  subsequent  to 
the  present  state.  The  transition  of  the  saved  is  not 
from  darkness  into  an  eternal  twilight,  or  through 
twilight  into  a  far-distant  day.  It  is  from  darkness 
to  light,  from  total  darkness  to  nnclonded  light,  from 
death  to  life,  from  hell  to  heaven,  from  the  power  of 
Satan  unto  God.  And  yet  so  familiar  are  onr  minds 
with  this  great  doctrine,  that  we  compare  it  only  witli 
itself,  forgetting  the  innnmerahle  terrible  alternatives 
which  might  have  been  presented.  Forgetting  what 
might  have  been,  we  look  upon  what  is  as  that  whicli 
must  ho,  and  detract  so  mnch  from  our  inducements 
to  adore  the  saving  grace  of  God.  How  the  error 
thus  committed  with  respect  to  the  whole  method  of 
salvation,  may  he  repeated  likewise  with  respect  to 
many  of  the  particular  provisions  comprehended  in  it. 
By  regarding  what  is  actually  done  as  the  result  of 
a  fatal  necessity,  we  fail  to  consider  wliat  our  con¬ 
dition  miglit  have  been,  and  thus  withhold  from  God 
a  large  share  of  the  praise  which  would  have  been 
extorted  from  us  by  a  view  of  what  he  has  gratui¬ 
tously  added  to  the  bare  hope  of  deliverance  from 
iielL  lie  might  have  left  us  as  it  were  within  its 
jaws,  and  hanging  over  the  abyss  of  fire.  lie  might 
have  left  us  on  its  verge  enveloped  in  its  thick  smoke, 


292 


SERMONS. 


and  deafened  by  its  ascending  shrieks  ;  in  a  word,  he 
niight  have  done  immeasnreably  less  for  ns,  and  yet 
have  saved  ns.  To  borrow  a  single  illustration  from 
the  subject  which  has  been  before  ns,  God  might  have 
given  ns  the  hope  and  promise  of  eternal  life,  and  yet 
excluded  ns  till  death  from  all  communion  with  him¬ 
self,  from  all  approach  to  him  in  prayer.  Oh,  what 
a  dispensation  even  of  free  mercy,  yet  without  a 
throne  of  grace,  or  way  of  access  to  the  F ather !  Or 
again,  he  might  have  suffered  ns  to  pray,  but  only  for 
ourselves,  without  the  right  of  intercession  on  behalf 
of  others,  or  the  hope  of  human  intercession  for  our¬ 
selves.  Tlie  way  in  which  we  are  affected  by  this 
su23position  may  perhaps  afford  a  measure  of  the 
value  which  we  put  upon  the  privilege.  If  we  regard 
it  with  indifference,  its  practical  value  is,  to  us,  as 
nothing.  If  we  shrink  from  the  idea  of  a  different 
arrangement  with  sincere  aversion,  it  can  only  be  be¬ 
cause  we  estimate  in  some  degree  aright  that  wonder¬ 
ful  provision  of  God’s  mercy  which,  by  suffering  his 
redeemed  ones  to  pray  not  only  for  themselves,  but 
for  others,  with  the  hope  of  being  heard,  and  with 
the  promise  of  the  Holy  Ghost  to  aid  their  infirmities, 
establishes  an  intimate  connection  between  every  re¬ 
newed  soul  and  every  other,  through  the  throne  of 
grace  ;  a  subtle  and  mysterious  j)Ower,  by  which  one 
may  reach  another — nay,  may  reach  a  thousand — nay, 
may  reach  a  world,  and  be  himself  the  object  of  as 
many  influences  as  he  thus  puts  forth ;  of  influences 
tending  all  exclusively  to  good,  for  God  will  not  hoar 
the  prayer  of  malice  and  hypocrisy,  nor  answer  that 
of  well-meant  ignorance; — one  soul  interceding  for  all 


1  THESSALONIAKS  5,  25. 


29S 


saints,  and  all  saints,  as  it  were,  for  one — sending  np 
the  exhalation  of  a  pure  desire  for  others,  and  receiv¬ 
ing  in  return  a  rain  of  heavenly  influence  ;  each  drop, 
each  shower,  representing  the  petition  of  some  pious 
heart,  on  which  his  own  prayers  had  invoked  a  bless¬ 
ing,  either  individually,  or  as  one  in  the  nameless  but 
beloved  company  of  “  all  saints,”  for  which  the  Bible 
taught  him,  and  the  Spirit  prompted  him,  and  aided 
him  to  pray  !  The  hope  of  such  a  recompense,  even 
in  this  life,  together  with  the  impulse  and  variety  im¬ 
parted  by  a  man’s  prayers  for  others  to  his  prayers 
for  his  own  soul,  may  well  incite  ns  both  to  utter  and 
obey  more  readily  tlie  precept  of  the  text ;  like  Paul, 
to  pray  without  ceasing  for  the  brethren;  like 
Paul,  to  say,  “  Brethren^  pray  for  us  /  ” 


Revelation  14,  12. — ^Ilere  is  the  patience  of  the  saints;  here  are 
they  that  keep  the  commandments  of  God  and  the  faith  of  Jesus. 

The  duty,  necessity,  and  good  effects  of  patience, 
are  often  set  forth  in  the  word  of  God.  This  is  the 
more  remarkable,  because,  by  the  wisdom  of  the 
world,  patience,  unless  accompanied  by  selfish  cun¬ 
ning,  or  a  proud  contempt  of  others,  is  regarded 
rather  as  a  weakness  tlian  a  virtue.  Strongly  con¬ 
trasted  with  this  vulgar  estimate  of  patience,  is  the 
prominence  with  which  it  is  exhibited,  commended, 
and  enjoined  in  Scripture.  The  application  of  the 
term,  however,  by  the  sacred  writers,  does  not  coin¬ 
cide  exactly  with  its  ordinary  usage.  ITor  is  its  use 
in  Scripture  altogether  uniform.  The  name  is  some¬ 
times  applied  to  the  humble,  submissive  endurance 
of  suffering ;  sometimes  to  consistent  perseverance  in 
any  good  course.  It  is  used,  however,  in  a  higher 
sense,  including  both  the  others  ;  and  even  where  the 
lower  sense  would  seem  appropriate,  there  is  often  at 
least  an  allusion  to  the  higher.  Evangelical  or  spir¬ 
itual  patience  is  not  mere  resignation  to  the  ills  of 
life  and  the  dispensations  of  Providence,  nor  mere 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


295 


perseverance  in  tlie  path  of  duty,  altliongh  neither  of 
these  can  really  exist  without  it.  It  is  something 
%  more  than  either,  or  than  both  combined,  that  is  de¬ 
scribed  in  Scripture  as  the  characteristic  patience  of 
the  saints,  or,  as  it  is  frequently  expressed,  their  pa¬ 
tient  waiting  tigyon  God. 

This  Englisli  phrase,  to  wait  njpon^  has  gradually 
undergone  a  change  of  meaning.  In  modern  usage 
it  denotes  a  personal  service  or  attendance,  either 
literal,  as  when  the  servant  waits  upon  his  master,  or 
metaphorical,  as  when  one  friend  is  said  to  wait  upon 
another.  The  original  w'ords  which  it  is  used  to  rep¬ 
resent  signify  simply  the  act  of  waiting  for,  including 
expectation  and  a  personal  interest  in  the  thing  ex¬ 
pected.  This,  too,  is  the  primary  import  of  the  Eng¬ 
lish  phrase  itself,  waiting  ujgon  and  waiting  for^  hav¬ 
ing  been  once  synonymous,  and  being  often  inter¬ 
changed  in  our  translation  of  the  Bible.  As  applied 
to  servants  it  expresses  strictly  nothing  more  than 
their  habitual  expectation  of  their  master’s  orders. 
Its  general  sense  of  service  or  attendance,  is  a  sec¬ 
ondary  one,  derived  from  this.  In  those  parts  of 
Scripture  where  the  duty  of  waiting  upon  God  is  ex¬ 
plained  or  enforced,  the  idea  of  serving  him  is  cer¬ 
tainly  implied,  but  the  direct  and  primary  meaning 
of  the  phrase,  is  that  of  waiting  for,  expecting  God, 
his  presence,  his  favour,  the  fulfilment  of  his  prom¬ 
ises,  as  well  as  the  utterance  of  his  commands.  That 
state  of  mind  which  waits  for  God  in  this  sense, 
is  spiritual  patience.  The  Apostle’s  declaration  to 
tlie  Hebrews,  Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that  after 
ye  have  done  the  will  of  God  ye  may  inherit  the 


296 


SERMOXS. 


promise,”  (Heb.  10,  36,)  seems,  at  first  sight,  to  mean 
merely  that  the  complete  fulfilment  of  the  promise 
would  be  long  deferred,  or,  in  other  words,  that  they 
must  wait  long  for  it,  because  it  could  not  take  place 
until  after  they  had  done  the  will  of  God.  But  the 
words  are  applicable,  in  a  higher  sense,  to  the  neces¬ 
sity  of  spiritual  patience,  as  a  characteristic  and  es¬ 
sential  element  of  Christian  life,  without  which  no  one 
can  perform  either  part  of  the  great  work  described, 
i.  e.  can  either  do  the  will  of  God,  or  be  partaker  of 
his  promises.  The  same  necessity  is  intimated  by  the 
same  apostle,  in  the  same  epistle,  when  he  expresses 
his  desire  that  those  to  whom  he  writes  may  be  fol¬ 
lowers  of  them  who,  through  faith  and  patience,  in¬ 
herit  the  promises.  (TIeb.  6,  12.)  So  far,  indeed,  as 
the  necessity  of  an}^  act,  or  habit,  or  affection,  can  be 
expressed  by  an  exhortation  to  perform  or  cherish  it, 
the  necessity  of  spiritual  patience  may  be  said  to  be 
frequently  alleged  in  scripture,  both  directly,  as  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  religious  obligation,  and  indirectly,  as  an  object 
of  God’s  favour  and  a  source  of  blessing.  Blessed 
are  all  they  that  wait  for  him.”  (Isaiah  30,  18.)  “  It 
is  good  that  a  man  should  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the 
salvation  of  the  Lord.”  (Lamentations  3,  26.)  “The 
Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for  him — to  the  soul 
that  seeketh  him.”  (Ib.  25.)  This  patient  waiting 
upon  God,  is  represented  not  only  as  acceptable  to 
him,  and  as  a  source  of  good  in  general,  but  of  spe¬ 
cific  benefits,  without  which  spiritual  life  can  never 
flourish,  if  it  can  exist.  For  example,  it  is  represent¬ 
ed  as  a  source  of  strength,  i.  e.  spiritual  strength, 
the  power  of  performance,  and  ordinance,  and  re- 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


29T 


sistance — of  witlistanding  evil  and  of  doing  good. 
This  strength,  the  soul,  convinced  of  its  own  weakness, 
cannot  cease  to  long  for,  since,  without  it,  it  can 
neither  do  that  wdiich  is  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God 
nor  shun  that  which  offends  him.  i^ow  this  strength 
is  exhibited  in  Scripture,  not  as  the  result  of  any 
natural  power,  inherent  or  acquired,  nqr  external  ad¬ 
vantages,  defences,  safeguards,  and  facilities  of  action, 
but  of  patient  reliance  upon  God,  ‘‘Wait  on  the 
Lord,  be  of  good  courage,  and  he  shall  strengthen  thy 
heart;  wait,  I  say,  on  the  Lord.’’  (Isaiah  27,  14.) 
It  is  indeed  contrasted  with  all  other  means  and  causes 
of  strength,  as  being  the  only  one  that  can  be  trusted, 
while  all  the  rest  are  imperfect  and  delusive.  Even 
the  strongest  who  rely  on  these,  shall  fail  and  be  ex- 
hausted;  but  “  they  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall  renew 
their  strength,  they  shall  mount  up  with  wings  as 
eagles  ;  they  shall  run  and  not  be  weary  ;  they  shall 
walk  and  not  faint.”  (Isaiah  40,  31.) 

So  far  from  warning  us  against  excess  in  the  em¬ 
ployment  of  this  means  for  the  recruiting  of  our  spir¬ 
itual  strength,  the  Scripture  points  it  out  as  the  high¬ 
way  to  perfection — “  only  let  patience  have  its  perfect 
work,  that  ye  may  be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting 
notliing”' — not  only  perfect  and  entire  in  patience,  but 
in  all  that  spiritual  patience  tends  to  generate  and 
foster.  (James  1,  4.)  It  is  presented  likewise  as  the 
only  security  against  the  disappointment  and  frus¬ 
tration  of  our  strongest  confidence  and  highest  trust. 
They  who  rely  upon  themselves  or  upon  any  other 
creature  for  this  same,  security,  shall  surely  be  con¬ 
founded  ;  but  God  himself  has  said,  “  they  shall  not 

VOL.  II. — 13* 


298 


SERMONS. 


be  asliamed,”  i.  e.  according  to  the  usage  of  the  Bible, 
disappointed  and  betrayed,  ^^that  wait  for  are.” 
(Isaiah  49,  23.)  This  assurance  against  future  disap¬ 
pointment  comprehends  within  its  scope  the  highest 
hopes  of  the  believer,  the  reality  of  which  is  expressly 
connected  with  the  exercise  of  patience.  They  that 
wait  on  the  Lord  shall  inherit  the  land.”  (Psalm 
37,  9.)  Wait  on  the  Lord  and  keep  his  way ;  he 
shall  exalt  thee  to  inherit  the  land.”  (Ib.  34.)  Nay, 
eternal  life  is  spoken  of  as  sure  only  “  to  them  who 
by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing  seek  for  glory, 
honour,  and  immortality.”  (Romans  2,  7.) 

Such  are  the  terms  in  which  the  duty,  necessity, 
and  blessed  fruits  of  patience  are  exhibited  in  Scrip¬ 
ture.  The  very  strength  of  the  expressions  and  the 
comprehensive  nature  of  the  promises  whicli  they  in¬ 
volve,  might  suffice  to  show  that  the  patience  of  which 
such  things  are  affirmed  is  neither  resignation,  forti¬ 
tude,  nor  constancy  of  purpose,  but  something  more 
than  either,  though  inclusive  of  them  nil.  The  idea 
of  patience,  in  its  ordinary  sense,  is  of  course  presup¬ 
posed.  That  the  heavenly  patience  thus  enjoined  and 
blessed,  is,  like  all  other  patience,  tranquil  and  quiet, 
the  negation  and  the  opposite  of  turbulence,  disorder, 
and  undue  excitement,  is  clear,  not  only  from  the  name 
applied  to  it,  but  also  from  the  declaration,  “it  is 
good  that  a  man  should  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the 
salvation  of  the  Lord,”  (Lamentations  3,  26,)  and  from 
the  junction  of  the  two  commands,  rest  in  the  Lord 
and  wait  patiently  for  himf  (Psalm  37,  7.)  Is  it 
then  a  mere  inert  quiescence,  a  stagnation  of  the  soul, 
without  affection  or  activity,  that  Grod’s  word  sets  be- 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


299 


fore  us,  as  a  duty,  as  a  necessary  source  of  strength, 
and  as  the  highway  to  perfection.  Such  a  conclu¬ 
sion  is  well  suited  to  the  tendency  of  human  nature 
to  extremes  ;  but  if  it  were  correct,  the  Apostle  could 
never  have  used  such  a  combination — in  exhorting 
the  Hebrew  Christians — “  that  ye  he  not  slothful,  but 
followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  j)^i'llence 
inherit  the  promises.”  (Hebrews  6, 12.)  The  patience 
that  is  heir  to  the  promises  of  God,  is  therefore  not 
a  mere  negation,  not  a  stagnant  patience,  not  a  sloth¬ 
ful  patience.  It  is  urged  on  to  action  by  a  potent 
principle,  the  love  of  God,  without  which  patient 
waiting,  in  the  true  sense,  is  impossible.  The  Lord 
direct  your  hearts  into  the  love  of  God  and  into  the 
patient  w^aiting  for  Christ.”  (2  Thess.  3,  5.) 

But  this  divine  love  may  itself  be  personated  by 
a  mere  inert  affection  or  by  a  corrupt  one,  which  re¬ 
fuses  to  be  subject  to  the  law  of  God,  neither  indeed 
can  be.  He  has  therefore  taught  us  that  obedience  to 
his  will  is  an  essential  characteristic  of  true  patience 
— Wait  on  the  Lord  ”  and  heejp  his  wayf  i.  e.  walk 
in  the  way  of  his  commandments,  are  inseparable 
precepts,  forming,  not  severally  but  together,  the  con¬ 
dition  of  the  promise  :  he  shall  exalt  thee  to  inherit 
the  land.”  (Ps.  37,  34.)  They  for  whom  glory,  and 
honour,  and  immortality,  and  eternal  life  are  reserved, 
are  they  who  seek  it,  not  simply  by  patient  contin¬ 
uance,  but  by  patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  (Pom. 
2,  7.)  “Ye  have  need  of  patience,  that  after  ye  have 
done  the  will  of  God,  ye  may  inherit  the  promise.” 
(Hebrews  10,  36.)  The  patience  of  the  saints,  then,  is 
neither  an  inactive  nor  a  lawless  patience,  but  a  lov- 


300 


SERMONS. 


ing  and  obedient  patience.  The  same  perverse  tend¬ 
ency  wliicli  leads  men  to  convert  and  jyatieni 
waiting  for  salvation,  into  absolute  inaction  or  a  dis¬ 
regard  of  duty,  will  lead  tliem  to  convert  the  requisi¬ 
tion  of  obedience  into  an  exhortation  to  reliance  on 
themselves  or  their  own  meritorious  seiwice.  But  the 
patience  of  .the  saints  is  a  believing  patience,  which 
not  only  believes  the  truth,  but  trusts  the  promises 
• — a  trust  implying  self-renunciation  and  despair  of 
self  salvation ;  for  without  these  an  implicit  trust  in 
God’s  grace  is  impossible.  It  is  through  faith  and 
gjatience^  a  patient  trust  and  a  believing  patience,  that 
the  saints  in  glory  have  inherited  the  promises.  Brom 
such  a  faith,  hope  is  inseparable.  He  who  would  not 
be  slothful,  but  a  follower  of  them  who  through  faith 
and  patience  inherit  the  promises,  must  do  so  by 
showing  diligence  ”  in  every  duty  to  the  fvdi  as¬ 
surance  of  unto  the  end.”  (Ileb,  6,  11.)  The  pa¬ 

tience  of  the  Scriptures  springs  neither  from  despair 
nor  fear,  but  from  hope,  which  is  the  opposite  of  both. 
It  is  not  a  mere  quiet  endurance  of  the  present  or  a 
quiet  retrospect  of  the  past,  but  a  quiet  expectation  ; 
and  that  not  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment  and 
fiery  indignation,  but  an  expectation  of  good — a  hope 
■ — an  assurance  of  hope  ;  the  more  assured  the  hope 
the  more  perfect  the  patience  ;  patience  can  have  her 
perfect  work  only  where  there  is  full  assurance  of 
hope  to  the  end — For  if  we  hope  for  that  we  see 
not,  then  do  we  with  patience  wait  for  it.”  (Bomans 
8,  25.)  “  It  is  good  that  a  man  should  and  quietly 
wait  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord.”  (Lamenta¬ 
tions  3,  26.) 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


301 


The  faith  and  hojie  which  are  thus  represented  as 
essential  to  the  patience  of  the  saints,  are  not  merely 
a  vague  trust  and  expectation  founded  upon  no  suffi¬ 
cient  reason,  or  simply  on  the  attributes  of  God,  or 
his  promises  in  general,  without  regard  to  the  restric¬ 
tions  and  conditions  by  which  they  are  accompanied, 
but  a  specific  trust  and  expectation,  having  a  definite 
object,  reason  and  foundation.  We  have  seen  already 
that  the  exercise  of  Christian  jiatience  is  described  in 
Scripture  as  a  patient  waiting,  not  for  something  un¬ 
known — not  for  evil — not  for  good  in  the  general,  but 
for  God.  “  Blessed  are  all  they  that  wait  for  IlimP 
(Is.  30,  18.)  ‘‘  Best  in  the  Lord  and  wait  patiently 

for  him.”  “  Those  that  wait  on  the  Lord  shall  in¬ 
herit  the  earth.”  -‘^Wait  on  the  Lord  and  keep  his 
way.”  “  Wait  on  the  Lord  and  he  shall  save  thee.” 
“They  that  wait  on  the  Lord  sliall  renew  their 
strength.”  “  The  Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for 
himL  “  They  shall  not  be  ashamed  that  wait  for 
■ineL  Here  is  a  definite  object  of  patient  expectation 
set  before  us.  It  is  not  mei’e  waiting^  nor  mere  pa-* 
tient  waiting  \X\2X  \LA\  answer  this  description,  but  pa¬ 
tient  waiting  for  tlie  Lord,  by  loving  him,  obeying 
]iim,  believing  him,  confiding  in  him,  seeking  him. 
“  The  Lord  is  good  to  them  that  wait  for  him,  to  the 
soul  that  seeheth  him.” 

The  object  of  the  Christian’s  patient  expectation  is 
made  still  more  definite.  It  might  be  asked  how  or 
why  should  men  wait  for  or  expect  the  Lord  ?  He 
wdll  be  forever  what  he  is.  lie  will  be  forever,  as  he 
is  now,  intimately  present  to  his  creatures.  If  the 
object  of  expectation  be  supposed  to  be  some  special 


1 


302 


SERMONS. 


or  extraordinary  manifestation  of  liis  presence  or  his 
power,  such  an  expectation  would  he  apt  to  prove 
fanatical,  and  instead  of  promoting  quietness  and  pa¬ 
tience  would  more  probably  destroy  it.  But  the  defi¬ 
nite  object  of  the  true  believer’s  patient  expectation 
is  the  manifestation  of  God’s  mercy  in  his  own  salva¬ 
tion,  in  his  complete  and  final  deliverance  from  suf¬ 
fering  and  from  sin.  Wait  on  the  Lord  and  he  wfill 
save  thee.”  (Proverbs  20,  22.)  It  is  good  that  a 
man  should  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  the  salvation 
of  the  Lordr  But  even  here,  the  expectation  of  the 
Christian  might  be  too  vague  to  secure  the  exercise 
of  genuine  patience.  He  might  look  to  God  for  sal¬ 
vation,  but  without  understanding  how  it  was  to  bo 
procured  or  how  it  could  be  reconciled  with  the  divine 
justice.  While  this  doubt  or  ignorance  existed,  he 
could  hardly  rest  wiBi  implicit  trust  even  on  God’s 
mercy,  and  could  not  therefore  be  expected  to  pos¬ 
sess  his  soul  in  patience.  The  only  remedy  for  this 
uneasiness  and  restlessness  of  spirit,  is  a  just  aj)pre- 
hension,  not  only  of  God’s  nature  as  a  merciful  being, 
but  of  the  precise  way  in  which  his  mercy  can  and 
will  be  exercised,  in  which  he  can  be  just  and  yet 
justify  the  ungodly.  In  other  wmrds,  the  soul  must 
not  only  see  God  as  he  is  in  himself,  but  see  him  in 
Christ  reconciling  the  world  unto  himself,  and  not  im¬ 
puting  their  trespasses  unto  them  but  imputing  them 
to  Christ,  making  him  to  be  sin  for  us  who  knew  no 
sin,  that  we  might  be  made  the  righteousness  of  God 
in  him.  The  man  whose  hope  is  fixed,  not  on  ab¬ 
stractions  or  on  generalities,  not  even  on  the  attributes 
of  God,  as  such,  nor  on  his  promises  at  large,  but  on 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


305 


the  positive,  distinct,  specific  promise  of  justification 
and  salvation  even  to  the  chief  of  sinners,who  renounces 
liis  own  righteousness  and  submits  to  the  righteous¬ 
ness  of  God,  by  a  simple  trust  in  the  righteousness  of 
Christ,  that  man  may  indeed  be  said  to  “  wait  for  the 
hope  of  righteousness  by  faith.”  (Galatians  5,  5.)  The 
attitude  of  that  soul  is  indeed  one  of  waiting,  of  pa¬ 
tient  waiting,  of  patient  waiting  for  God,  of  patient 
waiting  for  the  salvation  of  the  Lord,  of  “  love  to  God 
and  patient  waiting  for  Christ.” 

Beyond  this  it  is  impossible  to  go  in  making  the 
object  of  our  patient  expectation  either  greater  or 
more  definite.  He  who  waits  for  the  hope  of  right¬ 
eousness  by  faith,  through  the  love  of  God  and  the 
patient  waiting  for  Christ,  may  have  a  faint  hope 
through  his  own  infirmity,  but  cannot  have  a  vague 
one  through  the  vagueness  of  the  object.  His  hope, 
and  by  necessary  consequence,  his  patience,  may  be 
variable,  fiuctiiating,  and  capricious,  but  not  from  any 
want  of  amplitude,  or  fulness,  or  distinctness  in  the 
object.  The  more  he  sees  of  that,  the  more  profoundly 
tranquil  and  unbroken  will  the  patience  of  his  spirit 
be.  If  we  know  not  what  we  hope  for,  or  if  we  doubt 
of  its  reality  or  excellence,  or  of  its  being  attainable 
by  us,  we  may  still  have  hope,  but  we  cannot  Iiave 
patience.  Our  hope  will  be  a  restless,  an  unsteady, 
an  impatient,  a  capricious  hope.  But  if  we  hope 
for  that”  which,  though  “  we  see  not  we  believe”  and 
know  to  be  real  and  excellent  and  within  our  reach, 
then,  then,  do  we  with  patience  wait  for  it,”  not  be¬ 
cause  we  no  longer  desire  it,  but  because  we  do  ;  not 
because  we  are  willing  to  postpone  the  full  fruition  of 


804: 


SERMONS. 


it,  but  because  we  are  so  filled  with  tlie  joyful  ex¬ 
pectation  and  the  assured  hope  of  obtaining  it  at  last, 
that  we  are  willing  to  wait  the  will  of  Him  on  whom 
it  all  depends,  and  whom  we  know  to  be  able  to  keep 
that  with  Avhich  we  have  entrusted  him,  until  that 
day,  however  distant.  This  is  the  kind  of  hope  that 
generates  true  patience  ;  and  if  we  would  indeed  be 
followers  of  them  who  through  faith  and  patience  in¬ 
herit  the  promises,”  let  us  lay  aside  our  fluctuating, 
short-lived  hopes,  which  are  extinguished  at  the  first 
blast  or  drowned  by  the  first  wave  that  washes  over  us, 
and  let  us  not  be  slothful,  but  diligent  in  duty,  in  the 
full  assurance  of  hope  unto  the  end.  (Hebrews  6, 11. 12.) 

We  have  now  seen  reason  to  conclude  that  the 
patience  of  the  true  believer,  though  a  state  of  rest  is 
one  of  rest  in  God,  and  therefore  not  a  slothful  or  in¬ 
ert  one,  but  a  diligent  and  active  one  ;  not  lawless, 
but  obedient ;  not  compulsory,  but  willing  ;  not  fear¬ 
ful,  but  loving ;  not  despondent,  but  hopeful ;  not 
vague,  but  definite  ;  not  resting  on  the  reason,  or  the 
fancy,  or  on  nothing,  but  on  God,  on  Christ,  on  sal¬ 
vation,  on  the  righteousness  of  faith  ;  not  capricious 
and  short-lived,  but  constant,  uniform,  and  persever¬ 
ing.  The  connection  which  has  been  already  pointed 
out  between  this  patience,  and  the  love  of  God  and 
faith  in  Christ,  is  a  sufficient  answer  to  the  question, 
whence  does  this  patience  spring,  b}^  what  is  it  pro¬ 
duced,  and  how  shall  we  obtain  it  ?  Are  we  still 
without  the  love  of  God  and  faith  in  Christ  ?  Then 
patient  waiting  is  for  us  impossible.  We  may  wait 
long,  we  may  wait  forever,  in  the  sense  of  doing 
nothing,  sinking  deeper  in  sin,  and  growing  harder 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


805 


under  it ;  "but  if  in  the  sense  before  explained  we 
would  possess  onr  souls  in  patience,  we  mnst  believe, 
and  love,  and  hope.  Faith  lies  at  the  foundation. 
Where  faith  is  wanting,  there  can  be  no  patience. 
With  little  faith  there  can  be  little  patience,  blot 
that  the  highest  degrees  of  faith  are  necessary  to  a 
genuine  patience ;  much  less  that  faith  which  is  as¬ 
sailed  and  tried  can  breed  no  patience.  But  of  these 
trials,  patience  often  springs  ;  patience  not  only  in  the 
lower,  blit  the  higher  sense ;  not  only  the  passive 
power  of  endurance,  but  the  active  power  of  humble, 
hopeful,  joyful,  and  believing  expectation  ;  only  let 
patience  have  her  perfect  work,  that  ye  may  be  per¬ 
fect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing,  knowing  that  the 
trial  of  your  faith  worheth  jyatience.^^  (Jas.  1,  3.  4.) 

Blit  this  effect  supposes  an  internal  preparation, 
without  which  mere  external  trials  of  onr  faith,  in¬ 
stead  of  working  patience,  would  render  it  impossible. 
And  this  internal  preparation  can  be  wrought  by  noth¬ 
ing  blit  a  spiritual  influence  not  only  from  without,  but 
from  above,  from  heaven,  from  God.  bTone  but  the 
Holy  Ghost  can  work  in  our  darkened  and  corrupted 
heart,  that  humble,  yet  triumphant  expectation  of  de¬ 
liverance  through  the  righteousness  of  Christ,  which 
is  the  life  of  s^iiritiial  patience  For  we  through  the 
Spirit  wait  for  the  hope  of  righteousness  by  faith,” 
(Gal.  5,  5.)  This  hope,  and  the  faith  from  which  it 
springs,  and  the  love  to  God  by  which  it  is  accom¬ 
panied,  are  all  his  gift.  Patience  and  all  the  elements 
i;  of  which  it  is  composed  must  come  alike  from  him. 
The  Lord  alone  can  “  direct  [our]  hearts  into  tlie  love 
of  God,  and  the  patient  waiting  for  Christ,”  (2  Thess. 


306 


SERMONS. 


3,  5.)  The  Slim  of  all  these  Scriptures  seems  to  he 
that  there  is  a  patience  necessary  to  the  Christian  life, 
a  patience  which  includes  resignation  and  endurance, 
hut  includes  far  more ;  a  patience  which  God  ap¬ 
proves,  and  upon  which  he  has  promised  his  blessing, 
as  a  source  of  strength  and  as  a  means  of  perfection  ; 
that  this  patience  is  a  rest  in  God,  not  slothful  hut 
diligent,  obedient,  loving,  and  believing,  springing 
from  the  hope  of  salvation  through  the  righteousness 
of  Christ  and  from  faith  in  liim,  augmented  even  by 
the  trial  of  that  faith  when  it  is  genuine  and  does  -not 
fail ;  a  patience  wrought  by  the  Holy  Spirit  directing 
our  hearts  into  the  love  of  God,  and  the  patience  of 
Christ,  or  patient  waiting  for  him. 

If  in  what  has  now  been  said,  the  declarations  of 
the  Scriptures  should  appear  to  be  distorted  from  their 
natural,  simple  meaning  as  app»lied  to  patience  in  tlie 
lower  sense,  let  it  be  considered  in  the  first  place, 
that  some  of  the  things  predicated  of  patience  in  the 
VYord  of  God  are  wholly  inapplicable  to  a  mere  sub¬ 
missive  temper,  powder  of  endurance,  or  freedom  from 
uneasy  restlessness  and  discontent.  In  the  next  place, 
let  it  be  considered  that  the  higher  patience  which 
the  Word  of  God  describes,  and  which  the  grace  of 
God  produces,  so  far  from  being  opposed  to  the  one 
just  mentioned,  or  in  any  sense  at  variance  with  it, 
that  it  includes  it  as  the  whole  includes  the  part,  or 
as  the  sjiring  includes  the  stream,  or  the  plant  its 
fruit  or  fiower.  While  it  still  stands  true,  attested 
both  by  Scripture  and  experience,  that  a  mere  philo¬ 
sophical  or  natural  patience  can  never  lead  to  those 
results  which  are  ascribed  to  Christian  patience  in 


REVELATION  14,  12. 


307 


tlie  Word  of  God,  it  is  equally  true  and  equally  well 
ascertained,  that  this  is  the  only  certain  and  unfailing 
source  of  meekness,  resignation,  and  tranquillity  ac¬ 
cessible  to  man.  The  patience  of  wrong,  or  suffering, 
or  hope  deferred,  whicli  springs  from  mere  prudential 
motives  or  from  self-control,  can  never  rise  higher  than 
its  fountain  in  the  heart,  and  must  therefore  prove 
unequal  to  the  greatest  emergencies  of  human  life. 
But  break  a  man’s  heart  with  a  conviction  of  sin, 
open  the  eyes  to  the  impending  danger,  make  him 
feel  his  incapacity  to  help  himself,  and  his  ur¬ 
gent  need  of  superhuman  help,  then  let  him  see 
Christ  as  an  all-sufficient  Saviour,  just  such  a  Sav¬ 
iour  as  he  needs,  and  has  at  last  been  made  to  wish 
for,  let  him  understand  and  appreciate  the  freeness  of 
the  gospel  offer,  let  him  close  with  it  in  hearty  ac¬ 
quiescence  by  a  true  faith,  let  him  feel  the  love  of 
God  shed  abroad  in  his  heart  and  controlling  his  af¬ 
fections,  let  him  see  the  hope  of  full  salvation,  and 
of  future  glory  streaking  the  horizon  like  the  dawn  of 
a  celestial  morning ;  on  this  dawn  let  his  eye  rest  with 
a  full  persuasion  that  the  day  is  breaking,  that  the 
sun  is  there,  that  it  will  rise,  that  it  will  soon  rise, 
and  with  this  conviction,  what  will  he  care  for  the 
expiring  of  the  few  flickering  tapers  that  surround 
him  ?  The  patience  which  Avill  best  enable  men  to 
bear  the  wrongs,  and  sorrows,  and  delays  of  life,  is 
patient  continuance  in  well-doing,  the  patient  waiting 
for  Christ,  the  patience  which  is  joint  heir  of  the 
promises  with  faith,  the  jiatience  of  hope,  Avhich  waits 
for  things  unseen,  looks  for  the  hope  of  righteousness 
by  faith,  and  quietly  waits  for  the  salvation  of  the 


308 


SERMONS. 


Lord.  Where  this  exists,  the  forgiveness  of  injuries, 
the  endurance  of  sufferings,  the  loss  of  all  things,  are 
comparatively  easy. 

If,  then,  we  would  exercise  the  lower  forms  of  pa¬ 
tience,  we  must  do  it  hy  securing  the  possession  of 
the  higher.  If  faith  and  repentance  are  unknown  to 
our  experience,  we  must  repent  and  believe  before  we 
can  expect  to  bear  and  forbear  even  in  this  world’s 
matters  with  a  truly  Christian  spirit.  If  we  have  re¬ 
pented  and  believed,  we  must  learn  to  love  and  hope, 
as  necessary  elements  of  patience.  If  we  have  already 
studied  in  this  school,  and  begun  to  practice  its  celes¬ 
tial  precepts,  let  us  show  the  same  diligence  to  the 
full  assurance  of  hope  unto  the  end ;  let  patience  have 
its  perfect  work,  that  we  may  be  perfect  and  entire, 
wanting  nothing.  Let  us  wait  on  the  Lord  and  keep 
his  way.  Let  us  rest  in  the  Lord  and  wait  patiently 
for  him.  Let  us  hope  and  quietly  wait  for  his  salva¬ 
tion.  Let  us  through  the  Spirit  wait  for  the  hope  of 
righteousness  by  faith.  Let  us  by  patient  continuance 
in  well-doing,  seek  for  glory,  and  honour,  and  immor¬ 
tality.  If  we  hope  for  what  we  see  not,  let  us  with 
patience  wait  for  it,  and  ere  long  we  shall  see  it.  We 
shall  see  it.  Faith  shall  be  turned  into  sight.  The 
work  of  patience  shall  be  done  forever ;  and  while  the 
patience  of  the  philosophers  and  worldlings  shall  be 
seen  in  all  its  hollowness  and  emptiness,  a  voice  from 
heaven  shall  sav  even  of  the  weakest  and  unworthiest 
of  us  who  have  thus  preserved  our  souls  in  patience. 
Here  is  the  patience  of  the  saints  ;  here  are  they  that 
keep  the  commandments  of  God  and  the  faith  of 
Jesus.” 


XVII. 


2  Timothy  2,  9. — The  word  of  God  is  not  bound. 

This  is  the  language  of  a  prisoner  at  Eome.  The 
imperial  city  had  seen  many  a  captive  brought  in 
singly  or  to  grace  the  triiimpli  of  lier  conquering 
chiefs.  In  comparison  with  these  there  was  little  to 
attract  attention  in  the  case  of  a  Cilician  Jew,  sent 
by  the  Itoman  prefect  of  Judea  to  be  tried  before  the 
judgment-seat  of  Csesar  upon  charges  pertaining  to 
the  Jews’  religion.  To  the  Romans,  such  a  case  was 
too  familiar  and  too  unimportant  in  itself  to  excite 
much  interest,  especially  before  the  prisoner’s  actual 
appearance  at  the  emperor’s  tribunal.  With  the  ex¬ 
ception  of  a  few  official  functionaries,  and  of  his  own 
brethren,  who  were  numerous  in  Rome,  it  is  jorobable 
that  few  were  aware  of  his  presence  or  even  his  ex¬ 
istence.  It  was  little  imagined  by  the  soldiers  wdiose 
swords  rattled  on  the  ancient  pavement  of  the  street 
where  Paul  dwelt,  or  by  the  vast  mixed  multitude  of 
citizens  in  gown  or  armour,  who  continually  passed 
before  his  prison,  that  within  those  doors  sat  one 
whose  influence  was  to  be  felt  throughout  the  empire, 
and  beyond  its  furthest  pale,  for  ages  ;  one  who,  as 
well  by  self-devotion  as  by  divine  appointment,  was 


310 


SERMONS. 


the  Apostle  of  he  Gentiles,  the  official  founder  of  the 
Christian  church  among  the  nations. 

He  was  now  a  prisoner,  and  this  his  actual  con¬ 
dition,  bore  a  significant  analogy  to  some  points  of 
his  earlier  history.  In  lineage  and  breeding  he  was 
a  thorough  Jew — a  Hebrew  of  the  Hebrews — a  Phari¬ 
see  of  the  straitest  sect — brought  up  in  Jerusalem  at 
the  feet  of  Gamaliel,  a  famous  doctor  of  the  law. 
His  attachment  to  the  faith  of  his  fathers  was  attest¬ 
ed  by  his  zeal  in  opposition  to  what  seemed  to  threaten 
it.  In  the  first  persecution  of  the  Christians  at  Jeru¬ 
salem,  he  was  present,  at  least  as  a  spectator.  The 
upper  garments  of  those  who  stoned  the  protomartyr 
vStephen,  were  laid  at  the  feet  of  Saul  of  Tarsus.  This 
sight,  instead  of  softening  his  heart  towards  the  suf¬ 
ferers  or  rousing  his  indignation  against  the  persecu¬ 
tors,  seems  to  have  kindled  in  his  own  breast  the  flame 
of  an  intolerant  zeal.  Our  next  view  of  him  is  in  the 
service  of  the  persecuting  priesthood — making  havoc 
of  the  church — entering  into  every  house,  haling  men 
and  women  and  committing  them  to  prison.  A  little 
after  he  appears  again,  still  breathing  out  threaten- 
ings  and  slaughter  against  the  disciples  of  the  Lord, 
soliciting  employment  as  their  enemy,  volunteering 
his  services  to  the  high  priest,  and  demanding  letters 
to  the  synagogues  of  foreign  cities,  that  if  he  found 
any  of  this  way,  whether  they  were  men  or  women, 
he  might  bring  them  hound  unto  Jerusalem. 

This  was  known  to  Christians  abroad  before  he 
actually  came  among  them,  for  when  Ananias  received 
the  divine  command  to  visit  him  and  restore  his  sight, 
he  expostulated  saying,  ‘‘  Lord,  I  have  heard  by  many 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


311 


of  this  man,  how  much  evil  he  hath  done  to  thy  saints  at 
Jerusalem,  and  here  he  hath  authority  from  the  chief 
priests  to  hind  all  that  call  on  thy  name.’’  So  after  he  be¬ 
gan  to  preach  Christ  in  the  synagogues  of  Damascus,  all 
that  heard  him  were  amazed  and  said,  “  Is  not  this  he 
tliat  destroyed  them  which  called  on  this  name  in  Jeru¬ 
salem,  and  came  hither  for  that  intent  that  he  might 
bring  them  hound  unto  the  chief  priests  ?  ” 

The  prominence  given  in  this  narrative  to  Paul’s 
eagerness  in  binding^  i.  e.  arresting  or  imprisoning  all 
converts  to  the  new  religion,  is  not  an  accidental  one. 
It  reappears  in  his  own  statement  of  his  conversion 
before  the  multitude  on  the  castle-stairs  in  Jerusalem  : 
“  I  persecuted  this  way  unto  the  death,  hinding  and 
delivering  into  prisons  both  men  and  women.  I  went 
to  Damascus  to  bring  them  which  were  there,  hound 
unto  Jerusalem.”  And  in  answer  to  the  Lord’s  com¬ 
mand  to  go  forth — “  Lord,  they  know  that  I  imjoris- 
oned  and  beat  in  every  synagogue  them  that  believed 
on  thee.  And  again  at  Cesarea,  before  Festus  and 
Agrippa,  many  of  the  saints  did  I  shut  up  in  prison.” 
To  the  circumstance  thus  marked  in  his  own  recol¬ 
lection  of  his  persecuting  ministry,  it  pleased  God 
that  there  should  be  something  corresponding  in  his 
later  liistory  as  a  Christian  preacher  and  confessor.  In 
the  catalogue  of  his  sufferings  for  Christ,  one  item  is 
in  prisons  more  frequent.  When  he  wms  bound  with 
thongs  upon  the  castle-stairs,  it  was  but  the  begin¬ 
ning  of  this  series  of  captivities,  the  last  of  which  was 
terminated  only  by  his  martyrdom. 

Tims  ho  who  once  breathed  only  to  bind  the  fol¬ 
lowers  of  Ciirist,  became  himself  the  prisoner  of  the 


312 


SERMONS. 


Lord,  “  for  whose  sake,”  said  he,  “  I  am  hound  with 
this  chain.”  How  much  his  own  mind  was  aifected 
by  this  providential  coincidence,  is  clear  from  the 
frequency  and  point  of  his  allusions  to  it  in  his  epis¬ 
tles,  from  the  earliest  in  date,  to  this  to  Timothy,  in 
all  probability  the  last  of  all — “  wherein  I  suffer 
trouble  as  an  evil-doer  even  unto  bonds ^  but  the  word 
OF  GOD  IS  NOT  BOUND,”  i.  e.,  tliougli  I  wlio  preach  it  am 
a  prisoner,  the  word  itself  is  not  confined  and  cannot 
be.  As  he  once  said  in  writing  to  the  Homan  Chris¬ 
tians,  ‘‘  let  God  he  true  but  every  man  a  liar,”  so  here 
he  seems  to  say,  “  let  me  abide  a  prisoner  forever,  if 
the  glorious  gospel  may  but  run,  have  free  course 
and  be  glorified.”  This  was  the  prisoner’s  consolation 
in  captivity — a  consolation  at  once  rational  and  trust¬ 
ful,  pregnant  with  lessons  of  practical  wisdom,  some 
of  which  it  may  not  be  inappropriate  or  unjustifiable 
to  consider  in  detail. 

1.  The  first  idea  suggested  by  the  words  in  their 
original  connection,  is  that  Paul’s  incarceration  did 
not  hinder  his  own  personal  exertions  as  a  preacher 
of  the  gospel.  His  countrymen  and  others  were  al¬ 
lowed  access  to  him.  Through  the  wise  and  tolerant 
indulgence  of  the  Homan  government,  he  “  dwelt  two 
whole  years  in  his  own  hired  house,  and  received  all 
that  came  in  unto  him,  preaching  the  kingdom  of 
God,  and  teaching  those  things  which  concern  the 
Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  all  confidence,  no  man  for¬ 
bidding  him.”  Though  he  was  bound,  therefore,  the 
word  of  God  was  not — not  even  as  to  his  jiersonal 
share  in  its  promulgation. 

This  was,  of  course,  a  precious  consolation  to  the 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


313 


captive.  How  mncli  would  the  pains  of  his  confinement 
have  been  aggravated  if,  in  addition  to  the  restraint 
upon  his  limbs  or  his  movements,  his  mouth  liad  been 
stopped  as  an  ambassador  of  Christ.  How  fervently 
may  we  suppose  that  he  would  then  have  prayed,  and 
called  on  others  to  pray  for  him,  that  his  mouth 
might  be  opened,  that  utterance  might  be  given  him, 
to  speak  freely  as  he  ought  to  speak.  But  such  facil¬ 
ity  he  did  possess ;  and,  in  the  joyful  consciousness 
of  this  advantage,  he  here  puts  the  bane  and  anti¬ 
dote  together — Wherein  I  suffer  trouble  as  an  evil-doer 
even  unto  bonds,  but  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound. 

The  practical  lesson  taught  by  Paul’s  example,  in 
this  view  of  it,  is  obvious.  It  is  a  reproof  of  our  dis¬ 
position  to  regard  external  disadvantages,  restraints, 
and  disabilities  as  either  affording  an  immunity  from 
blame  if  we  neglect  to  use  the  power  still  left  us,  or 
discouraging  the  hope  of  any  good  effect  from  using 
it.  Because  we  cannot  do  all  that  we  would,  we  are 
too  aj^t  to  do  nothing;  or,  because  we  cannot  com¬ 
mand  the  means  with  which  we  are  familiar,  we  are 
often  ready  to  abandon  the  whole  enterprise.  In  this 
disposition  there  is  more  pride  than  humility.  It  is 
tainted  with  the  selfish  ambition  of  a  Cesar,  who 
must  be  all  or  nothing.  It  is  also  condemned  by 
the  experience  of  the  world.  Some  of  the  greatest 
achievements  in  science  and  the  arts,  in  warfare  and 
in  government,  in  morals  and  philanthropy,  have  been 
effected  in  tlie  absence  of  wliat  some  men  would  re¬ 
gard  as  indispensable  appliances,  and  in  a  wise  con¬ 
tempt  of  them.  It  is  not  the  music  or  the  uniform, 
the  burnished  metal  or  the  flaunting  flag,  that  secures 
VOL.  II. — 14 


814 


SERMONS. 


the  victory,  however  useful  they  may  be  in  their  own 
places.  Had  they  been  the  indispensable  conditions 
of  success,  the  tattered  and  unshod  champions  of  our 
owm  independence  must  have  yielded  to  the  brilliant 
and  well-appointed  forces  of  the  enemy.  Hay,  the 
very  loss  or  interruption  of  accustomed  comforts  and 
accommodations  has  been  sometimes  the  not  remote  . 
occasion  of  a  victory. 

It  may  be  so,  too,  in  the  spiritual  warfare.  Men 
may  form  the  habit  of  regarding  the  conventional  fa¬ 
cilities  to  which  they  are  accustomed  even  in  benevo¬ 
lent  exertion  as  essential  means  to  the  desired  end, 
and  when  these  are  withdrawn,  may  look  upon  the 
case  as  hopeless — as  if  Paul,  when  made  a  prisoner  at 
Pome,  had  given  up  all  for  lost,  and  ceased  to  speak 
or  labour  for  the  cause  of  Christ — as  if  he  had  said, 

I  am  bound  and  the  gospel  is  bound  with  me.  It 
must  share  my  bondage  and  continue  shut  up  in 
the  walls  of  my  compulsory  abode.  Such  a  course 
would  not  have  been  irrational  or  sinful  on  the  prin¬ 
ciples  which  many  of  us  Christians  seem  to  hold  ;  but 
it  was  wholly  inconsistent  wdth  the  sentiments  and 
character  of  Paul.  When  he  could  not  do  all,  he  still 
did  what  he  could ;  he  had  learned  both  to  abound 
and  to  suffer  need  ;  he  could  be  all  things  to  all  men, 
that  he  might  save  some.  When  he  could  not  2')reach 
Christ  as  a  freeman,  he  must  preach  him  onl}^  the 
more  zealously  as  an  ambassador  in  bonds.  When 
forced  to  say,  Wherein  I  suffer  trouble  as  an  evil-doer 
even  unto  bonds,  he  could  cheerfully  and  thankfully 
add,  “  But  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound,” 

2.  It  was  still  true,  however,  that  Paul’s  bonds  di- 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


315 


niinislied  liis  efficiency.  While  he  avoided  the  ex¬ 
treme  of  abandoning  all  hope,  he  equally  avoided 
that  of  foolishly  imagining  that  he  could  personally 
do  as  much  for  the  diffusion  of  the  Gospel  in  his  own 
hired  house  at  Rome,  as  in  the  wide  sweep  of  his 
itinerant  apostleship.  This  was  impossible,  as  he 
W' ell  knew ;  and  knowing  it,  he  needed  something 
more  to  comfort  him  in  his  confinement  than  the  con¬ 
sciousness  that,  though  he  could  no  longer  do  as  much 
as  he  had  once  done,  he  could  still  do  something.  This 
might  be  enough  for  him,  but  it  was  not  enough  for 
the  honour  of  his  master.  It  might  satisfy  his  con¬ 
science,  but  it  could  not  satisfy  his  heart  or  appease 
the  cravings  of  his  thirst  for  the  salvation  of  the  world. 
Ills  wmrk,  though  not  yet  at  an  end,  w^as  interrupted, 
and  how  should  his  lack  of  service  be  supplied?  The 
answer  is  a  plain  one  :  by  the  labours  of  others.  This 
was  a  large  ingredient  in  the  cup  of  the  apostle’s  con¬ 
solation.  He  rejoiced  not  only  in  the  labours  of 
others  during  his  comparative  inaction,  but  in  that 
inaction  as  the  occasion,  the  exciting  cause,  of  other 
men’s  exertions.  Hay,  he  could  even  go  so  far  as  to 
consent  to  be  wronged  and  dishonoured,  if  by  that 
means  his  ruling  passion  might  be  gratified.  To  the 
Macedonian  Christians  in  Philippi  he  writes  as  fol¬ 
lows  from  his  confinement  in  the  city  of  the  Cesars : 
‘‘Brethren,  I  would  ye  should  understand  that  the 
things  which  happened  unto  me  have  fallen  out  rather 
unto  the  furtherance  of  the  gospel,  so  that  my  bonds 
in  Christ  are  manifest  in  all  the  palace  and  in  all 
other  places ;  and  many  of  the  bretliren  in  the  Lord, 
waxing  confident  by  my  bonds,  are  much  more  bold 


316 


SERMONS. 


to  speak  the  word  without  fear.  Some  indeed  preach 
Christ  even  of  envy  and  strife,  and  some  also  of  good¬ 
will — the  one  preach  Christ  of  contention,  not  sin¬ 
cerely,  thinking  to  add  affliction  to  my  bonds,  but 
tlie  others  of  love,  knowing  that  I  am  set  for  the  de¬ 
fence  of  the  gosj)el.  What  then  ?  ^Notwithstanding 
every  way,  whether  in  pretence  or  in  truth,  Christ  is 
preached,  and  I  therein  do  rejoice,  yea,  and  will  re¬ 
joice,  for  I  know  that  this  shall  turn  to  my  salvation 
through  your  prayer,  and  the  su23ply  of  the  spirit  of 
Christ  Jesus,  according  to  my  earnest  expectation  and 
my  hope,  that  in  nothing  I  shall  be  ashamed,  but  that 
with  all  boldness,  as  always,  so  now  also,  Christ  shall 
be  magnified  in  my  body,  whether  it  be  by  life  or  by 
death ;  for  to  me,  to  live  is  Christ,  and  to  die  is 
gam. 

What  is  the  princij^le  involved  in  this  sublime 
profession  of  heroic  devotion  to  the  cause  of  Christ  ? 
Plainly  this,  that  while  Paul  was  even  ready  to  mag¬ 
nify  his  office  as  apostle  to  the  Gentiles,  and  correctly 
appreciated  both  the  honour  and  the  difficulty  of  the 
work  assigned  to  him,  he  never  dreamed  that  it  was 
meant  to  be  entirely  dependent  upon  his  individual 
activity.  It  was  not  at  himself,  but  at  the  world, 
that  he  continual Iv  looked.  He  regarded  his  own 
labours  as  important  only  so  far  and  so  long  as  it 
pleased  God  to  employ  them  as  means  to  the  ap¬ 
pointed  end ;  and  when  they  seemed  to  lose  this  pe¬ 
culiar  relation  to  the  cause,  instead  of  lamenting  that 
his  agency  was  suspended,  or  dreading  the  success  of 
any  other  than  his  own,  he  loses  sight  of  his  own 
share  in  the  great  work,  to  look  at  tlie  great  work  it- 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


317 


self,  as  something  dear  to  him,  yet  independent  of 
him,  which  he  was  willing  to  promote  either  by  his 
life  or  death,  as  God  might  please  to  order,  hut  which 
he  desired  to  see  promoted  at  all  costs  and  at  all  haz¬ 
ards,  whether  by  himself,  or  by  his  friends,  or  by  his 
enemies. 

This  is  a  spirit  worthy  of  a  hero,  nay,  of  an  apos¬ 
tle  ;  of  one  who  could  and  did  rejoice  tliat  Christ  was 
preached,  by  whomsoever,  and  whose  highest  hope 
was  that  Christ  might  be  magnified  in  him,  whether 
actively  or  passively,  by  life  or  by  death.  Here  too, 
the  lesson  to  ourselves  is  obvious.  The  apostle’s  ex¬ 
ample  ought  to  shame  us  out  of  all  undue  reliance 
upon  certain  human  agencies  and  influences.  Espe¬ 
cially  ought  this  to  be  the  case  in  relation  to  our  oion 
share  of  the  work  to  be  performed  for  the  honour  of 
God  and  tlie  salvation  of  the  world.  If  Paul,  with 
his  apostolic  dignity,  confirmed  by  all  the  signs  of  an 
apostle,  regarded  his  own  personal  exertions  only  as 
appointed  means  with  which  the  sovereign  power 
that  prescribed  them  could  as  easily  dispense,  what 
are  we,  that  we  should  think  ourselves  or  our  assist¬ 
ance  necessary  to  the  divine  purpose,  or  that  purpose 
in  danger  of  defeat  and  disappointment  at  any  mo¬ 
mentary  interruption  of  our  share  in  its  promotion, 
or  that  we  should  frown  upon  the  emulous  exertions  of 
our  neighbours  in  the  same  cause,  as  a  kind  of  en¬ 
croachment  upon  our  prerogative,  an  insolent  intru¬ 
sion  on  our  chosen  and  appropriated  field  of  labour  ? 
How  completely  does  the  spirit  of  the  great  apostolic 
captive  put  to  shame  all  such  exclusiveness  and  self¬ 
ish  emulation,  as  displayed  too  often  by  the  indi- 


318 


SERMONS. 


vidual  labourer,  and  still  more  by  large  bodies  of 
such  labourers,  however  zealous  and  sincere. 

This  last  is  but  another  form  of  the  same  error, 
more  insidious,  because  clothed  in  the  garb  of  hu¬ 
mility.  He  who  professes  to  distrust,  nay,  who  really 
distrusts  himself  as  insufficient  for  this  work,  may  be 
guilty  of  an  undue  reliance  upon  others,  either  singly 
or  collectively.  However  little  he  may  look  for  from 
his  own  individual  exertions,  he  may  repose  an  un¬ 
commanded  confidence  in  those  of  his  neighbours,  or 
his  leaders,  or  in  the  united  strength  of  his  party,  of 
his  church,  or  of  his  nation ;  and  to  these  corporate 
bodies  may  transfer  the  idolatrous  trust  and  admira¬ 
tion  which  he  dare  not  arrogate  to  himself.  But  this 
kind  of  dependence  upon  human  strength  for  that 
which  God  alone  can  do,  though  less  offensive  in  its 
manifestations,  is  equally  at  variance  with  a  spirit  of 
true  faith,  and  equally  condemned  by  Paul’s  exam¬ 
ple.  The  principle  which  actuated  and  controlled  his 
conduct  comprehends  in  the  Avide  scope  of  its  appli¬ 
cation  all  dependence  upon  human  agencies  as  abso¬ 
lutely  or  intrinsically  necessary  to  the  execution  of 
the  divine  plan,  Avhether  the  objects  of  this  misplaced 
trust  be  indiAdduals  or  communities — ourselves  or 
others.  The  primary  meaning  of  Paul’s  joyful  ex¬ 
clamation  is,  that  though  he  Avas  a  prisoner,  the  Avord 
of  God  Avas  free,  but  it  obviously  imj)lies  that  though 
all  the  preachers  of  the  Avord  Avere  altogether  like 
him,  not  even  excepting  his  bonds,  itAVOuld  still  have 
been  true,  that  the  AVord  of  God  Avas  not  their  felloAV 
captive,  but  might  run  and  be  glorified.  Though  I 
and  every  other  human  instrument  be  paralyzed  or 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


319 


sliattered,  God  can  perform  his  own  work  in  his  own 
way ;  though  I  and  every  other  messenger  endure 
affliction  even  unto  bonds,  the  word  of  God  is  not 
hound.  There  is  no  need,  however,  of  our  stopping  even 
here.  We  are  not  required  to  content  ourselves  wnth 
knowing  that  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound  to  the 
hand  or  foot  of  any  human  instrument  however 
eminent,  however  useful.  Let  us  view  the  teaching 
of  the  text  in  its  uttermost  extent,  and  sound  it  in  its 
lov/est  depths,  or  rather  to  the  depth  of  our  capacity, 
even  though  it  should  conduct  us  to  what  may  at  first 
sight  seem  a  more  abstract  and  artificial  view  of  the 
apostle’s  meaning. 

One  of  the  most  important  lessons  couched  in  this 
significant  expression  or  deducible  from  it,  would  be 
lost  upon  us  if  we  went  no  further.  I  refer  to  the  doc¬ 
trine  that  the  truth  of  God  is  independent,  not  only 
of  particular  human  agents,  but  of  all  human  systems 
of  opinion,  organizations,  and  methods  of  procedure. 
This  must  be  apprehended  and  believed  as  a  distinct 
proposition.  We  may  grant  the  insignificance  of  any 
particular  personal  agency,  and  yet  rely  upon  the  in¬ 
trinsic  efflcacy  of  certain  theories  and  certain  plans, 
whatever  be  the  agency  by  which  they  are  reduced 
to  practice.  As  in  politics,  so  in  religion,  and  es¬ 
pecially  in  its  active  benevolence,  the  maxim  princi¬ 
ples  not  men”  may  be  delusive,  by  leading  only  from 
one  error  to  another,  by  v/ithdrawing  confidence  from 
personal  advantages  of  character  or  talent,  only  to  fix 
it  the  more  blindly  on  the  real  or  imaginary  attributes 
of  systems,  schemes,  contrivances,  and  methods.  It 
is  important,  therefore,  that  the  words  of  the  apostle 


320 


SERMONS. 


should  be  taken  in  their  widest  sense,  as  intimating 
that  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound’’  with  this  chain 
any  more  than  with  the  others.  The  diffusion  and 
triumph  of  the  truth  are  not  suspended  on  our  methods 
of  promoting  them,  hoAvever  excellent.  The  truth 
we  circulate  is  not  a  lifeless,  inert  mass,  which  we 
may  shape,  and  regulate,  and  bear  about  at  our  dis¬ 
cretion  or  caprice  ;  it  is  a  living  element,  v/hich  we 
can  neither  generate  nor  kill,  but  to  which  God  allows 
us  the  honour  of  furnishing  conductors  and  assigning 
a  direction  with  a  view  to  certain  applications.  What¬ 
ever  reason  we  may  have  for  cherishing  our  own  ac¬ 
customed  modes  of  doing  this,  we  must  still  remem¬ 
ber  that,  in  reference  to  these  as  W'ell  as  other  things, 
‘‘  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound.” 

There  may  seem  to  be  but  slight  ground  or  practi¬ 
cal  necessity  for  this  admonition  ;  but  the  fact  is  other¬ 
wise.  This  error  is  a  real  and  an  operative  one.  Its 
tendency,  if  not  directly  to  relax  effort,  is  to  weaken 
faith,  discourage  hope,  damp  zeal,  contract  the  views, 
and  thereby  most  effectually  stop  the  wheels  of  all 
great  enterprises.  The  error  itself  does  not  lie  in  the 
contrivance  of  ingenious  and  effectual  plans,  or  in 
their  zealous  execution,  but  in  looking  upon  their  op¬ 
eration  and  results  as  tlie  aggregate  effect  produced 
by  saving  truth ;  as  if  one  should  su23pose  that  there 
was  no  light  in  the  world  but  that  employed  in  opti¬ 
cal  experiments,  and  no  electric,  or  magnetic,  or  gal¬ 
vanic  influence  but  that  subjected  to  our  senses  by 
the  pile  or  battery.  It  is  an  honour  and  a  happiness 
to  be  allowed  to  gather  up  a  portion  of  revealed  truth, 
as  the  Hebrews  gathered  manna  in  their  vessels,  and 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


321 


to  cast  it  into  certain  moulds  without  destroying  its  vi¬ 
tality  or  virtue,  and  to  blend  it  with  otlier  things  con¬ 
genial  though  distinct,  and  to  clothe  it  in  legitimate 
though  un commanded  forms  of  our  own  choosing,  and 
to  apply  it  as  we  find  exj^edient  for  our  own  advan¬ 
tage  or  for  that  of  others.  But  we  must  not  let  this 
privilege  mislead  us  into  the  delusion  of  imagining 
that  this  is  all  the  truth  of  God  can  do,  or  rather  that 
there  is  no  truth  at  all  except  as  we  choose  to  exhibit 
or  diiluse  it;  that  if  our  machinery  should  burst  or 
fall  to  pieces,  it  would  leave  the  world  to  spiritual 
darkness  and  starvation.  In  short,  that  the  Avord  of 
God  is  bound  to  us  and  to  our  methods  of  preserving 
and  diffusing  it.  In  this,  as  in  the  other  senses  here¬ 
tofore  considered,  be  assured,  my  hearers,  that  “  the 
word  of  God  is  not  bound.” 

The  mistaken  views,  of  which  I  am  noAV  speaking, 
arise  from  natural  and  moral  causes,  some  of  Avhich 
are  easily  detected.  Our  ideas  of  value,  from  their 
very  nature,  are  connected  Avith  our  customary  modes 
of  measurement  and  estimation.  Whatever  Ave  can 
count  or  weigh,  Ave  OAvn  to  have  a  real  tangible  exist¬ 
ence.  Whatever  Ave  can  thus  treat  to  a  certain  point, 
even  Avithout  being  able  to  include  the  Avhole,  Ave  look 
upon  as  Axast  in  its  extent  or  Avorth,  but  no  less  real 
than  if  Ave  could  measure  it  by  pounds  or  inches. 

But  that  Avhicli  cannot  be  subjected  to  our  meas¬ 
urement  at  all,  Ave  are  disposed  to  reckon  as  imagin¬ 
ary,  or  as  only  half  existing,  not  entitled  to  a  place 
among  the  tangible  realities  by  AAdiich  Ave  are  sur¬ 
rounded.  The  very  air  Ave  breathe,  because  it  is  in¬ 
visible,  is  apt  to  be  regarded  by  the  uninstructed 
voi.  II. — 14* 


322 


SEKMONS. 


mind,  as  almost  a  nonentity ;  and  even  when  it  proves 
its  own  existence,  when  it  sweeps  over  the  earth  in  the 
tornado,  tearing  up  whole  forests,  some  would  rather 
trace  the  terrible  effect  to  causes  utterly  unknown, 
than  to  an  agent  in  immediate  contact  with  their  bo¬ 
dies,  yet  apparently  beyond  the  reach  of  their  inves¬ 
tigation.  It  is  true  that  some  of  these  mysterious 
agencies  in  nature  have  been  brought  to  bear  with 
VvmiKlerful  effect  upon  the  interests  of  real  life.  The 
indomitable  light  is  made  to  do  the  slow  work  of  the 
artist’s  pencil  in  a  moment  of  time,  and  the  flitting 
shadow  is  arrested  in  its  flight  and  rendered  perma¬ 
nent.  An  unsubstantial  vapour  now  replaces  on  the 
ocean  and  the  land,  on  the  road  and  in  the  factory,  a 
vast  amount  of  animal  exertion.  A  power  once  reck¬ 
oned  too  mysterious  for  scrutiny,  or  even  for  belief, 
now  apes  the  wonder  of  annihilating  time  and  space, 
and  instantaneously  conveys  men’s  whispers  not  only 
over  continents  but  under  oceans.  Effects  so  real 
must  have  real  causes,  and  the  world  reluctantly  ad¬ 
mits  the  fact. 

How,  there  are  triumphs  of  advancing  knowledge 
in  the  field  of  natural  discovery — her  triumphs  over 
ignorant  and  stubborn  prepossessions.  And  why  may 
not  the  truth,  though  in  itself  immutable,  gain  kindred 
victories  in  morals  and  religion  ?  Why  should  they 
who  no  longer  venture  to  dispute  the  existence  and 
activity  of  physical  causes,  wdiich  they  cannot  esti¬ 
mate  or  measure,  still  persist  in  believing  that  the 
truth  of  God  is  only  ojDerative  through  their  channels 
and  in  their  machinery — that  when  they  have  com¬ 
puted  the  amount  of  saving  knowledge  spread  through 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


323 


these,  by  counting  the  v/ords,  or  the  pages,  or  the 
volumes  that  contain  it,  they  have  stated  the  sum  total 
of  the  cleansing,  strengthening,  illuminating  influence 
exerted  by  the  truth  upon  this  evil  world  ?  The  doc¬ 
trine  which  I  would  oppose  to  this  delusion  is  the 
simple  doctrine  that  “  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound  ” 
or  restricted,  in  its  salutary  virtue,  to  the  formal  and 
appreciable  j)ower  exerted  upon  churches  and  Chris¬ 
tian  communities,  or  through  the  ordinary  modes  and 
channels  of  religious  influence,  however  great  this 
power  may  be,  however  indispensable  to  the  comple¬ 
tion  of  the  work  which  God  is  working  in  our  days. 
We  may  even  admit  that  it  is  relatively  almost  all, 
but  it  is  still  not  quite  all ;  and  the  residuary  power 
may  be  greater,  vastly  greater,  than  it  seems  to  us 
before  attentively  considering  the  other  less  direct, 
less  formal,  less  appreciable  ways,  in  wfliich  the  word 
of  God,  the  truth  revealed  in  Scripture,  is  at  this  mo¬ 
ment  operating  on  the  condition  of  society,  apart  from 
its  constant  and  direct  communication  through  the 
pulj^it,  the  school,  and  the  religious  press.  These  are 
the  agencies,  indeed,  by  which  sound  doctrine  is  main¬ 
tained  in  your  churches  and  impressed  upon  your 
youth  ;  and  this,  in  its  perfection,  is  the  highest  end 
that  can  be  wrought  by  the  diffusion  of  the  truth. 

But  let  us  not  forget  that  much  may  be  effected 
even  when  this  highest  end  is  not  attained.  In  many 
a  heresy,  for  instance,  how  much  truth  may  be  min¬ 
gled,  saving  it  from  absolute  corruption,  and  perhaps 
the  souls  of  those  who  hold  it,  from  perdition.  Infi¬ 
delity,  in  all  its  forms,  affects  to  treat  religion  with 
contempt  as  the  offspring  of  ignorance ;  but  its  own 


824: 


SERMONS. 


discoveries  are  mere  mutilations  of  the  truths  wliich 
it  has  stolen  from  its  despised  enemy.  The  attempt 
of  infidelity  to  do  away  with  the  great  doctrines  of 
religion,  is  the  prowess  of  a  dwarf  mounting  on  a 
giant^s  shoulders  to  put  out  his  eye.  The  best  con¬ 
structed  system  of  nnscriptural  philosophy,  however 
close  and  dark,  still  has  its  crevices,  and  through 
these  some  light  cannot  fail  to  percolate,  if  only  to  be 
seized  upon  as  proof  that  the  system  is  not  one  of 
darkness  after  all. 

The  same  thing  is  true  as  to  those  slighter  and 
more  trivial,  but  for  that  very  reason  more  effect!  \'e 
forms  of  unbelief,  which  are  propagated  not  in  philo¬ 
sophical  abstractions,  but  in  poetry,  romance,  and 
other  current  literature.  The  novelist  or  journalist 
who,  with  a  scorn  of  Christianity  only  to  be  equalled 
by  his  ignorance  of  what  it  teaches,  undertakes  to 
show  his  readers  “  a  more  excellent  way,”  often  brings 
them  at  last  to  some  elementary  truth,  already  wrought 
into  the  mind  and  stamped  upon  the  memory  of  every 
child  who  reads  the  Bible.  What  a  tribute  is  this  to 
the  pervading,  penetrating  force  of  truth,  that  it  can 
find  its  way  even  into  such  dark  places,  and  at  least 
serve  to  make  the  darkness  visible  !  Look  too  at  the 
schemes  of  civil  government  and  social  order  framed 
by  irreligious  men,  or  unbelievers  in  the  Scriptures, 
and  observe  these  two  facts  easily  established  :  that 
every  departure  from  the  lessons  of  God’s  word  is  a 
demonstrable  evil  or  defect  in  relation  even  to  the 
lower  object  aimed  at ;  and  that  every  thing  condu¬ 
cive  to  a  good  end  in  the  system  is  an  adaptation  of 
some  Christian  doctrine  to  a  special  purpose.  It  is 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


325 


no  doubt  far  more  flattering  to  tbe  pride  of  theorists 
and  system-mongers,  to  regard  what  they  have  bor¬ 
rowed  or  stolen  from  the  Bible  as  a  common  stock 
from  which  both  parties  are  at  liberty  to  draw  ;  but 
they  have  no  right,  upon  this  ground,  to  deny  the 
notorions  fact  that  this  pretended  common  fund  was 
given  to  the  world  by  revelation  ages  before  their 
own  inventions  came  into  existence. 

It  would  be  easy  to  pursue  the  same  inquiry 
throngh  every  field  of  science  and  every  walk  of  art, 
and  to  show  that  even  there,  the  Word  of  God  has 
first  been  followed  as  a  guide,  and  then  expelled  as 
an  intruder  ;  that  its  light  has  first  been  used  to  kin¬ 
dle  others,  and  then  vain  attempts  made  to  extinguish 
it  forever ;  in  a  word,  that  its  enemies  have  first  re¬ 
sorted  to  it  in  their  time  of  need,  and  then  ungrate¬ 
fully  forgotten  or  unblushingly  denied  the  obligation. 
In  all  these  cases,  it  is  no  doubt  true  that  the  result 
of  the  mutilating  and  perverting  process  is  somethmg 
unscrij)tural  and  antichristian.  It  is  not  pretended 
that  the  few’  drops  of  pure  water  neutralize  the  poison, 
or  that  the  single  ray  of  light  dispels  the  darkness  into 
which,  as  if  by  accident,  it  finds  its  wmy.  The  gen¬ 
eral  result  may  still  be  evil,  although  these  foreign 
elements  are  there ;  but  if  they  are  there,  who  will 
undertake  to  say  how  much  less  after  all  the  evil  is 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been  ? 

Here  then  is  a  case  in  which  an  inappreciable 
cause  may  be  known  to  be  producing  great  effects. 
The  indirect  and  incidental  influence  of  Bible  truth 
upon  erroneous  systems  of  religion,  the  various  forms 
of  infidelity,  or  science,  art,  and  literature,  on  man- 


326 


SERMONS. 


ners,  government,  and  social  morals,  cannot  be  meas¬ 
ured,  blit  it  cannot  be  denied.  It  may  be  inscrutable, 
blit  it  is  real,  and  we  must  not  leave  it  out  of  oiir  ac¬ 
count  wben  we  would  estimate  the  power  of  divine 
truth,  or  our  own  obligations  to  diffuse  it,  or  our 
causes  and  occasions  of  encouragement  to  persevere 
and  look  for  great  results  from  the  diffusion  of  that 
light  which,  though  it  sheds  its  full  effulgence  only 
on  a  few  most  highly  favoured  spots,  at  the  same 
time  sends  some  of  its  rays  into  the  dark  places  of  the 
earth  which  are  full  of  the  habitations  of  cruelty. 
Thanks  be  to  God,  that  the  beneficent  effects  of  his 
word  are  not  entirely  confined  to  those  vdio  willingly 
receive  it,  but  that  even  in  relation  to  the  church 
and  to  Christendom,  however  vast  their  advantages 
above  the  heathen,  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound.’’ 

If  this  be  a  correct  view  of  the  influence  exerted 
even  indirectly  by  the  word  of  God  ;  if  over  and 
above  its  certain  and  complete  results,  it  shines 
through  the  interstices  of  unknown  caverns,  and  mit¬ 
igates  the  darkness  of  unfathomed  depths ;  if  in  fer¬ 
tilizing  one  spot,  it  sheds  even  a  few .  scattered  but 
refreshing  drops  upon  a  multitude  of  others ;  if  in 
doing  all  for  some,  it  incidentally  does  some  for  all, 
let  me  ask,  in  conclusion,  what  should  be  the  ]3ractical 
effect  of  this  belief?  not  that  of  paralyzing  hope  or 
crippling  effort,  but  the  very  contrary.  It  should  for¬ 
bid  despair;  it  should  excite  to  new  exertion.  Its 
tendency  to  this  effect  may  be  exhibited  in  three  par¬ 
ticulars.  And  first,  if  all  these  things  be  so,  we  need 
not  tremble  for  the  truth  itself.  Our  efforts  to  pre¬ 
serve  it  and  improve  it  may  be  vain  ;  but  it  will  take 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


327 


care  of  itself,  or  ratlier  God  will  take  care  of  it.  If 
liis  word  were  sometliing  that  existed  only  liere  and 
there  like  precious  stones  and  metals,  we  might  fear 
that  it  would  he  drained  off  to  meet  some  urgent  de¬ 
mand  elsewhere,  or  that  it  might  he  actually  lost  or 
destroyed.  But  who  can  fear  the  loss  of  that  which 
penetrates  all  substances,  and  reaches  even  the  remot¬ 
est  regions  ?  "Who  can  fear  the  loss  of  water,  air,  or 
fire  ?  To  individuals,  to  families,  to  entire  com- 
mnnities,  the  truth  may  indeed  he  wholly  lost,  to 
their  eternal  undoing.  But  it  shall  not  he  banished 
from  the  world.  There  may  he  savages  to  whom  the 
use  of  fire  is  unknown.  There  are  deserts  which  are 
always  almost  wholly  void  of  moisture.  But  the 
fiames  can  never  he  extinguished  on  these  millions  of 
hearths,  or  if  they  were,  they  would  he  soon  rekindled 
by  the  electric  clouds  of  heaven,  or  the  volcanic  cra¬ 
ters  of  the  earth.  The  world  cannot  die  of  thirst  un¬ 
til  the  windows  of  heaven  are  forever  stopped,  and 
the  fountains  of  the  deep  forever  emptied.  So  shall 
it  be  with  the  word  of  God ;  he  has  not  only  spread 
it  over  the  surface  of  society,  but  given  it  a  lodgment 
in  its  innermost  recesses.  Every  system,  every  in¬ 
stitution,  every  community,  has  received  of  its  fulness, 
more  or  less.  Should  its  regular  depositories  be  de¬ 
stroyed,  it  will  burst  forth  from  its  hiding-j)laces 
where  it  lay  forgotten,  to  regenerate  the  world.  Its 
champions  may  be  overcome,  its  heralds  carried  cap¬ 
tive,  but  the  word  of  God  is  not  bound.” 

Another  aspect  of  the  same  thing  is,  that  if  sucli 
be  the  indirect,  as  well  as  the  direct  efiects  of  truth, 
there  is  some  hope  for  the  world  itself,  and  even  for 


328 


SERMONS. 


those  parts  of  it,  and  those  things  in  it,  which  other¬ 
wise  might  seem  to  he  confined  to  hopeless,  irrecov¬ 
erable  rnin.  The  mass  may  in  itself  be  wholly  cor¬ 
rupt,  there  may  be  present  in  it  and  diffused  through 
out  it  a  potent  antiseptic  principle,  a  salt,  not  super¬ 
ficially  applied,  but  absorbed  into  the  p)ores,  and 
lodged  in  the  vessels  of  the  body  politic,  not  so  as  en¬ 
tirely  to  purge  out  its  impurities,  but  so  as  to  pre¬ 
serve  it  from  immediate  dissolution.  When  we  hear 
of  wars  and  revolutions,  when  we  see  the  weakness  of 
all  human  safeguards  proved  experimentally  by  one 
convulsion  following  another,  till  the  cause  of  human 
freedom  and  good  government  seems  desperate,  let 
us  remember  that  amidst  the  corruptions  and  infirm¬ 
ities  of  even  the  best  human  institutions,  there  is 
still  a  power  working,  it  may  be  insensibly,  but  con¬ 
stantly  and  not  without  effect,  to  procrastinate,  if  not 
to  prevent  forever  the  catastrophe  which  sometimes 
seems  so  inevitable.  The  statesman  and  the  dema¬ 
gogue  are  far  from  dreaming  that  what  sometimes 
saves  them  from  the  ruin  which  they  had  long  ceased 
to  think  avoidable,  is  that  despised  religion  which 
they  have  in  vain  endeavoured  to  exclude  from  all 
participation  in  the  honours  of  their  boasted  system, 
but  which,  in  spite  of  them,  has  so  far  leavened  it, 
that  even  their  own  suicidal  violence  fails  of  its  efiect. 
The  hand  of  power  may  be  palsied,  or  the  wild  force 
of  the  multitude  coerced  by  various  accidental  causes, 
but  this  mysterious  principle  still  lives,  and  moves, 
and  acts  upon  society,  if  not  enough  to  give  it  health, 
enough  to  save  its  life.  The  ruler  and  the  ruled  may 
be  alike  in  bondage ;  but  the  word  of  God  is  not 
bound.’’ 


2  TIMOTHY  2,  9. 


329 


Lastly,  if  this  be  a  correct  view  of  the  powerful 
and  mnltiform  energies  of  truth  ;  of  its  oblique  as  well 
as  its  direct  effects  upon  the  world,  it  may  teach  us  a 
valuable  lesson  as  to  the  true  spirit  of  philanthropy, 
as  being  not  a  formal,  rigid,  mathematical  attempt 
to  save  men’s  souls  by  certain  rules,  and  in  the  use  of 
certain  ceremonial  forms,  but  a  generous,  impulsive, 
and  expansive  zeal  for  the  glory  of  God  in  the  salva¬ 
tion  of  the  lost.  If  such  be  even  the  remote  and  sec¬ 
ondary  influence  of  truth  upon  men’s  social,  intellect¬ 
ual,  and  moral  state,  their  science,  literature,  arts, 
and  government,  let  us  give  them  excess  of  it,  whether 
they  will  hear  or  whether  they  wdll  forbear.  And  as 
the  surest  way  of  gaining  this  end,  let  us  flood  the 
world  with  the  pure  and  unadulterated  word  of  God. 

To  our  several  and  our  separate  systems  of  belief, 
we  owe  a  diligent  use  of  the  necessary  means  for 
their  establishment  and  propagation.  But  to  God, 
to  Christ,  and  to  the  souls  of  men,  we  owe  an  ener¬ 
getic  and  unceasing  effort  to  saturate  the  whole  earth 
with  that  word  in  which  we  all  agree.  Even  when 
we  have  done  all  that  seezns  incumbent  on  us  through 
the  channels  of  our  own  ecclesiastical  relations,  we 
may  still  do  more  through  the  deep  and  broad  chan¬ 
nel  of  our  common  Christianity.  The  word  of  God 
has  already  been  repeatedly  compared  to  water,  the 
natural  emblem  of  purification  and  refreshment.  Its 
diffusion  may  be  likened  to  the  measures  for  supply¬ 
ing  a  whole  population,  such  as  that  of  a  great  city, 
with  this  precious  element  of  cleanliness,  comfort, 
health,  and  safety,  great  municipal  measures  now. 
Other  supjDlies  may  be  acceptable  or  even  indispen- 


330 


SERMONS. 


sable  to  certain  classes  or  to  certain  spots,  but  tliis  is 
requisite  alike  to  all.  To  provide  it  may  cost  labour, 
time,  skill,  and  vast  expense  ;  but  it  is  worth  the  price. 
By  some  it  may  be  wasted  ;  some  may  mix  it  with 
intoxicating  drinks,  or  use  it  in  other  noxious  prepa¬ 
rations,  or  directly  apply  to  the  injury  of  others  ;  but 
in  spite  of  all  these  possibilities  of  evil,  and  a  thou¬ 
sand  more  as  easily  imagined,  it  is  still  a  blessing,  and 
may  safely  be  afforded  in  unlimited  abundance.  So 
is  it,  and  so  be  it,  with  the  w'ord  of  God.  Whatever 
some  may  choose  to  do  with  it  or  mix  with  it,  how¬ 
ever-  some  may  lavish  or  neglect  it  or  pervert  it,  it  is 
still  the  word  of  God,  and  in  its  unadulterated  form 
may  be  poured  upon,  the  nations  as  a  flood,  without  a 
fear  of  either  poisoning  or  drowning  them.  Then  let 
it  gush,  and  let  the  world  bear  witness  that  though 
every  other  channel  be  obstructed,  and  every  otlier 
source  of  influence  exhausted, — though  philosophy 
and  fancy  be  found  unavailing, — though  ]3rophecies 
fail,  and  tongues  cease,  and  all  other  knowledge  vanish 
away — though  the  very  ministers  of  truth  be  fettered 
in  civil  or  religious  bondage,  the  word  of  God  is  not 
bound — it  is  not  bound  ;  it  is  free  ;  it  is  alive ;  it  is 
in  motion  ;  it  shall  win  ;  it  shall  have  free  course  and 
be  glorified  till  the  earth  shall  be  full  of  the  knowl¬ 
edge  of  God,  as  the  waters  cover  the  sea.’’ 


XVIII. 


Psalm  8,  1.  9. — 0  Lord,  our  Lord,  how  excellent  is  thy  name  in 
all  the  earth ! 

Theke  is  no  traditional  and  nncommanded  nsas:© 
of  the  Jews,  among  the  many  with  which  they  have 
overlaid  and  darkened  their  own  scriptures,  half  so 
affecting  to  the  imagination  and  religious  sensibilities 
as  that  immemorial  suppression  of  the  name  Jehovah, 
which  has  for  ages  been  a  kind  of  negative  or  tacit 
shibboleth,  to  mark  and  to  perpetuate  the  difference 
between  Jew  and  Gentile.  However  false  in  princi¬ 
ple,  however  destitute  of  scriptural  foundation  and 
divine  authority,  it  cannot  be  denied  that  there  is 
something  in  this  national  and  everlasting  reticency 
as  to  the  most  solemn  and  significant  of  all  the  divine 
names,  not  far  removed  from  the  sublime,  and  that 
even  their  extreme  of  superstitious  silence,  when  at 
all  combined  with  feelings  of  elevation,  is  far  better 
than  the  frivolous  levity  with  which  that  venerable 
name  is  tossed  from  mouth  to  mouth,  not  only  in  pro¬ 
fane  discourse,  but  even  in  public  offices  and  courts 
of  justice,  not  to  say  in  the  pulpit  and  the  private 
circles  of  Christian  and  religious  intercourse. 

The  want  of  agreement  and  congruity  between 


332 


SERMONS. 


this  singular  usage  and  the  characteristic  absence  of 
all  mysteries  and  esoteric  doctrines  in  the  church  of 
the  Old  Testament,  while  it  aftbrds  a  strong  presump¬ 
tive  proof  that  the  usage  is  one  foreign  from  the  ]3rin- 
ciples  and  spirit  of  the  Jews’  religion  in  its  purest 
days,  only  adds  to  its  imaginative  grandeur  and  effect, 
by  bringing  it  out  in  bold  relief,  like  a  dark  spot  on  a 
luminous  or  shining  surface.  The  religious  awe  which 
the  suppression  was  originally  meant  to  indicate,  and 
which  has  no  doubt  often  since  attended  it,  if  right  at 
all,  could  not  have  been  associated  with  a  more  legit¬ 
imate  or  worthy  object,  than  that  pregnant  tetra- 
grammaton,  in  the  four  characters  of  which,  as  in  a 
sacramental  symbol,  is  wrapped  up  the  germ,  or 
rather  the  quintessence,  of  that  wonderful  preparatory 
system  wdiich  excited  and  sustained  the  expectation 
of  a  Saviour  till  the  time  of  his  epiphany  was  fully 
come.  However  difficult  it  may  be  to  determine  in 
detail  the  reason  for  the  use  of  the  two  principal 
divine  names  by  the  sacred  writers  in  specific  cases, 
there  is  no  ground  for  doubt,  or  for  diversity  of  judg¬ 
ment,  as  to  the  main  fact,  that  Jehovah  is  distin¬ 
guished,  in  the  Hebrew  Scriptures,  from  all  other 
designations  of  the  Godhead,  as  the  name  which 
attested  his  peculiar  relation  to  his  Church  or  chosen 
people,  and  the  clear  revelation  of  himself  and  of  liis 
purposes,  vouchsafed  exclusively  to  them  ;  so  that  the 
very  sound  of  this  word,  now  supposed  by  many  to 
be  lost  through  immemorial  disuse,  or  its  very  sight, 
when  that  disuse  had  grown  inveterate,  suggested  not 
the  vague  idea  of  divinity,  nor  even  that  of  a  personal 
God,  viewed  merely  in  himself  and  at  a  distance,  but 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


333 


the  warmer  feeling  of  a  God  in  covenant  with  his 
people,  making  himself  known  to  them  as  he  did  not 
to  the  world  at  large  ;  nay  more,  literally  dwelling  in 
the  midst  of  them,  and  actually,  personally,  reigning 
over  them.  With  such  associations,  this  significant 
and  pregnant  name  must  soon  have  grown  as  ditferent 
in  meaning  and  effect,  from  the  generic  name  Elohim, 
which  was  common  to  the  true  God  with  all  others, 
as  the  corresponding  terms  in  modern  parlance  are 
from  one  another ;  and  as  all  men  among  us  are  free 
to  use  the  name  of  God,  in  season  or  out  of  season, 
blasphemously  or  devoutly,  while  the  name  of  Lord 
is  for  the  most  part  shunned  by  irreligious  lips,  as 
properly  belonging  to  the  dialect  of  personal  religion ; 
so  the  ancient  Jews,  although  they  still  continued  to 
adore  God  as  the  God  of  all  men,  under  the  name 
Elohim,  with  more  or  less  of  that  religious  reverence 
which  the  name  implies,  praised  him  and  served  him 
as  their  own,  peculiarly  revealed  and  covenanted  God, 
by  the  distinctive  name  Jehovah. 

This  being  the  case,  it  might  have  been  supposed 
that  the  distinctive  name,  thus  used  to  designate  the 
God  of  revelation  and  the  God  of  Israel,  if  significant 
at  all,  would  have  been  significant  of  something  closely 
connected  with  this  singular  relation  between  God  and 
his  peculiar  peojfie,  so  that  when  the  name  was  heard 
or  seen  by  others  or  themselves,  its  very  etymology 
and  meaning  might  suggest  ideas  of  a  national  or 
local  kind,  and  irresistibly  convey  to  all  minds  the 
conception  of  a  special  propriety  in  Israel  on  God’s 
part,  and  in  God  on  theirs.  But  so  far  is  this  from 
being  true,  that  there  is  none  of  the  divine  names  so 


834 


SEIiMONS. 


remote  from  siicli  associations,  or  so  little  suited  in 
itself  to  rouse  them  ;  none  so  lofty,  or  profound,  or 
comprehensive,  as  an  expression  of  what  God  is  in 
himself,  without  regard  to  the  relations  which  he  may 
sustain  to  all  or  any  of  his  creatures,  who  are  recog¬ 
nized  in  their  description  only  as  unlike  Him,  or  con¬ 
trasted  with  Him,  whom  it  represents  as  not  only  the 
Supreme,  but  in  a  certain  sense  the  only  Being,  of 
whom  alone  existence  can  in  the  highest  sense  be 
rightfully  affirmed ;  who  was  when  nothing  else  was ; 
wKo  is  what  nothing  else  is ;  without  whom  nothing 
else  was,  is,  or  can  be ;  the  source  of  being  in  all  others, 
the  self-existent,  independent,  and  eternal  essence, 
whose  most  perfect  designation  of  liimself  was  given 
in  that  paradoxical  but  grand  enigma,  of  which  the 
name  Jehovah  is  but  an  abbreviated  symbol — I  shall 
be  what  I  shall  be,  or  I  am  what  I  am. 

That  a  name  suggestive  of  all  this  should  be  ap¬ 
plied  to  the  peculiar  relation  between  God  and  his 
peoj^le,  seems  entirely  unaccountable,  except  upon 
the  supposition  that  it  was  intended  to  remind  them, 
by  the  very  name  employed  to  cfesignate  their  na¬ 
tional  and  covenanted  God,  that  he  was  not  a  God 
distinct  from  the  Creator  of  the  universe,  not  an  infe¬ 
rior  and  derivative  divinity,  not  even  a  co-ordinate, 
co-equal,  co-eternal  being,  but  the  one,  sole,  self- 
existent,  independent,  and  eternal  essence,  “  the 
blessed  and  only  potentate,  the  King  of  kings  and 
Lord  of  lords,  who  only  hath  immortality^  dwelling 
in  the  light  which  no  man  can  approach  unto  ;  whom 
no  man  hath  seen  or  can  see  ;  to  whom  be  honour 
and  power  everlasting.  Amen.”  (1  Tim.  6,  15. 16.) 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


335 


This  precaution  against  such  an  error  may  at  first 
sight  seem  gratuitous  and  inconsistent  with  the  very 
idea  of  a  chosen  people  ;  hut  the  whole  tenor  of  the 
history  of  Israel  shows  that  such  a  notion  would  be 
perfectly  erroneous,  and  that  the  native  tendency  of 
fallen  man  to  transmute  truth  into  falsehood  and  per¬ 
vert  the  richest  blessings  into  curses,  was  never  more 
remarkably  exemplified  than  in  the  national  expe¬ 
rience  of  that  extraordinary  race,,  who,  when  they 
had  been  severed  from  the  lest  of  men  by  a  divine 
choice,  for  a  temporary  purpose,  and  for  the  ultimate 
advantage  of  the  wliole,  strangely  imagined  that  their 
segregation  v^as  designed  to  be  perpetual,  and  sprang 
from  some  intrinsic  or  innate  superiority,  or  at  least 
had  reference  to  their  own  exclusive  aggrandizement 
as  its  final  cause  and  providential  purpose.  Had  this 
error  terminated  on  themselves,  and  merely  served 
to  aggravate  their  oveiAveening  self-esteem,  it  would 
have  been  comparatively  harmless ;  but  alas !  the 
transition  wvas  an  easy  one  from  false  views  of  them¬ 
selves  to  false  views  of  the  God  whose  lavour  they 
affected  to  monopolize  as  not  the  God  of  the  Gentiles 
also  ;  and  from  this  the  fatal  step  was  almost  unavoid¬ 
able  to  the  conclusion,  that  their  God  was  not  the  God 
of  nature  or  the  universe,  but  either  the  antagonistic 
principle  in  some  monstrous  scheme  of  dualism,  or  an 
j  inferior  deity  restricted  to  the  Holy  Land.  When 
I  such  views  became  possible,  even  to  the  least  en- 
1  lisfhtencd  Jews,  no  wonder  that  the  Greek  and  Roman 

I  o  / 

j  learned  to‘  sneer  at  the  provincial  God  of  Palestine  ; 
no  w^onder  that  the  modern  skeptic  still  delights  to 
!  represent  Him  as  a  local  deity ;  no  w^onder  that  the 


336 


SERMONS. 


great  apostle  had  occasion  to  demand  in  his  day  :  Is 
he  the  God  of  the  Jews  only  ?  is  he  not  also  of  the 
Gentiles  ?  ”  (Rom.  3,  29.) 

How  far  this  process  of  deterioration  went,  even 
among  the  most  corrupted  of  the  people,  cannot  now 
be  ascertained  ;  but  it  is  certain  that  these  false  views 
are  never  prescribed  among  the  enlightened  and  be- 
lievino;  class,  and  that  thev  are  without  the  slightest 
countenance  or  shadow  of  authority  from  the  expe¬ 
rience  or  example  of  the  ancient  Church,  as  such,  or 
of  the  men  who  were  insj)ired  to  furnish  it  with  forms 
and  models  of  devotional  experience,  some  of  which 
are  still  on  record,  and  contain  the  clearest  exposition 
of  the  true  sense  of  the  name  Jehovah,  and  of  the 
divine  intention,  in  revealing  it,  to  hinder  the  indul¬ 
gence  of  a  grovelling  nationality  and  sectarian  bigot¬ 
ry,  even  under  institutions  in  themselves  so  capable 
of  breeding  it ;  or  if  it  could  not  be  prevented,  to 
condemn  it  and  expose  it  by  means  of  the  perpetual 
contradiction  between  such  a  spirit  and  the  very  name 
by  Avhich  they  were  accustomed  to  invoke  God,  as 
the  God  of  their  fathers,  and  the  God  in  covenant 
with  themselves.  Throughout  the  Law,  the  Proj^hets, 
and  the  Psalms,  the  uniform  tendency  of  revelation, 
and  of  the  spirit  which  the  ancient  saints  imbibed 
from  it,  is  to  identify  the  God  of  the  Jews  with  the 
God  of  the  Gentiles,  the  God  of  revelation  with  the 
God  of  nature,  and  the  God  of  nature  with  the  God  of 
grace ;  to  say,  O  Lord,  our  Lord,  our  King,  our  na¬ 
tional,  our  covenant  God  !  Jiow  glorious  is  thy  name, 
the  revelation  of  thy  nature,  not  only  among  us,  but 
in  all  the  earth  ! 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


337 


Nor  was  this  effect  suffered  to  depend  upon  the 
dictates  of  reason  or  of  conscience ;  much  less  was  it 
left  to  the  discretion  or  caprice  of  the  collective  church 
or  individual  believers.  It  was  forced,  as  it  were, 
upon  the  very  senses,  which  could  not  refuse  to  recog¬ 
nize  the  name  of  God  inscribed  upon  the  frame  of 
nature,  as  the  human  architect  or  sculptor  leaves  his 
own  indelibly  impressed  upon  the  incorruptible  and 
almost  unchangeable  material  upon  which  his  skill 
and  genius  work  their  wonders.  It  is  the  doctrine, 
not  of  poetry  or  mere  aesthetics,  but  of  Scripture,  that 
the  heavens  are  telling  the  glory  of  God,  that  the  per¬ 
petual  interchange  of  light  and  darkness  furnishes  a 
long  unbroken  series  of  witnesses  for  Him — day  unto 
day  poureth  out  speech,  night  unto  nigiit  imparteth 
knowledge  ;  that  the  absence  of  articulate  expression 
only  adds  to  the  sublime  strength  of  this  testimony — 
no  speech,  no  words,  not  at  all  is  their  voice  heard, 
and  yet  their  voice  is  gone  out  into  all  the  world,  and 
their  words  unto  the  end  of  it ;  that  the  whole  frame 
of  nature  is  instinct  and  vocal  with  the  praises  of  an¬ 
other  than  itself ;  that  throughout  the  majestic  temple 
of  the  universe,  all  of  it  says  Glory — not  its  own,  but 
God’s — whose  name,  Jehovah,  is  distinctly  legible  all 
over  the  stupendous  structure,  and  whose  glory  is 
placed  upon  and  above  the  very  heavens.  The  in¬ 
stinctive  adoration  of  that  glory  is  not  limited  to  men 
of  science  and  cultivation ;  it  is  felt  by  the  most  ig¬ 
norant  and  uninformed ;  it  is  felt  by  the  savage  as 
he  eyes  the  heavens  from  his  forest  or  his  desert ;  it  is 
felt  by  tlie  young  children  whose  intelligence  is  still 
but  j)artially  developed,  but  whoso  wonderful  struc- 
VOL.  II. — 15 


338 


SERMONS. 


ture  and  mysterious  progress  do  not  more  truly  Lear 
a  passive  testimony  to  the  glory  of  their  Maker,  than 
their  unconscious  admiration  actually  contributes  to 
the  same  end,  affording  a  strong  defence  against  the 
unbeliever  who  would  question  God’s  holiness  or  ob¬ 
scure  his  glory ;  so  that  out  of  the  mouth  of  babes 
and  sucklings  he  has  ordained  strength  to  silence  even 
his  most  spiteful  enemies. 

To  all  this,  the  very  name  Jehovah  should  have 
led  the  least  enlightened  of  the  J ews,  as  it  did  to  all 
this  lead  the  most  enlightened,  who  were  wont  to  read 
that  sacred  name  not  only  in  the  volumes  of  their  law, 
and  on  the  high  priest’s  forehead,  but  on  every  thing ; 
so  that,  to  their  believing  eyes,  the  very  bells  of  the 
horses  were,  as  if  in  anticipation  of  the  prophecy,  in¬ 
scribed  already.  Holiness  to  Jehovah.  As  in  God’s 
palace,  all  says  glory,  all  its  contents  and  inmates,  so 
did  they  among  the  rest.  Some  of  the  noblest  of  the 
Psalms  of  David,  those  in  which  even  an  irreligious 
taste  can  see  most  to  admire,  were  written  for  the 
very  purpose  of  identifying  the  J ehovah  of  the  Scrip¬ 
tures  with  the  God  of  Mature.  Of  this,  the  nineteenth 
and  the  twenty-ninth,  besides  the  psalm  before  us, 
are  remarkable  examples.  The  sublime  description, 
which  has  been  already  quoted,  of  the  heavens  as  wit¬ 
nesses  for  God,  is  merely  introductory  to  a  description 
of  this  same  God  as  the  author  of  a  still  more  glorious 
law;  and  in  the  other  case  referred  to,  the  God  whose 
mighty  and  majestic  voice  the  Psalmist  hears  upon 
the  waters,  and  sees  crushing  the  cedars  of  Lebanon, 
heaving  out  flames  of  fire,  shaking  the  wilderness,  and 
stripping  forests — the  God  whom  he  sees  riding  on 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


339 


tlie  flood  and  enthroned  as  king  forever,  is  not,  as  the 
infldel  pretends,  a  faint  co]3y  of  the  clond-coinpelling 
Zens  or  the  Thnnder-god  of  Scandinavian  mythology, 
bnt  a  God  who  must  he  worshipped  in  the  beauty  of 
holiness — the  Lord  Jehovah,  who  gives  strength  unto 
his  peojfle,  who  blesses  his  people  with  peace. 

AVith  these  views  of  his  physical  supremacy,  as 
well  as  of  his  moral  perfection,  the  inspired  poets  of 
the  old  economy,  and  those  for  whom  their  composi¬ 
tions  furnished  vehicles  of  pious  sentiment,  were  not 
nnwilling  to  look  nature  in  the  face,  or  afraid  to  look 
np  from  the  ground  on  which  they  trod,  at  the  mag- 
niflcent  creation  overhead  and  all  around,  as  if  it 
were  the  devil’s  handy-work,  or  that  of  some  inferior 
god,  or  that  of  fallen  man,  and,  therefore,  necessarily 
contaminating  to  the  eyes  and  ears  of  saints ;  bnt  in 
that  very  character  of  saints  or  holy  ones,  and  in  the 
exercise  of  those  affections  which  determined  them  to 
be  such,  they  looked  nature  in  the  face,  not  by  chance, 
but  of  set  purpose ;  not  by  compulsion,  but  spontane¬ 
ously  ;  not  rarely,  but  often  ;  not  as  an  occasional  in¬ 
dulgence,  but  as  an  habitual  duty  ;  not  with  a  gaze  ot 
vacant  listlessness,  but  with  a  serious  contemplation, 
they  considered,  they  attentively  considered  the  heav¬ 
ens  ;  yet  with  no  idolatrous  and  overweening  rever¬ 
ence,  as  if  self-made  ;  with  no  atheistical  indifterencc, 
II  as  if  not  made  at  all ;  but  with  a  genuine,  devout,  be- 
!  lieving  interest,  as  knowing  them  to  be  the  handy- 
j  work  of  God — not  the  gross  product  of  a  blind  and 
j  brutal  power,  acting  irresistibly,  yet  wholly  without 
i  purpose,  but  the  perfect  and  symmetrical  result  of  a 
!  divine  intelligence,  as  really  designing  and  construct- 


340 


SERMOXS. 


iDg  what  it  brings  into  existence,  as  the  mind  of  man 
directs  his  fingers  in  the  nicest  operations  of  mechani¬ 
cal  contrivance  or  artistic  skill ;  so  that  the  psalmist, 

by  a  bold  and  beautiful  assimilation  of  the  finite  to 

«/ 

the  infinite,  describes  the  heavens  as  the  work  of 
God’s  fingers — a  work  not  abandoned  to  its  own  con¬ 
trol,  or  left  without  control,  when  once  created,  but 
ordained,  fixed,  settled,  by  the  same  creative  and  al¬ 
mighty  power,  each  celestial  body  in  its  own  allotted 
sphere  or  orbit ;  so  that  when  he  considered  the  heav¬ 
ens  the  work  of  God’s  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars 
which  he  had  ordained — he  looked  through  the  con¬ 
trivance  to  the  great  contriver — througli  the  building, 
in  which  all  says  glory  ”  !  to  the  builder,  by  whose 
skill  and  power,  and  for  whose  everlasting  praise  it  is 
and  was  created. 

Such  religious  views  of  the  material  universe  must, 
of  necessity,  react  on  the  spectator,  to  wdiom  the  works 
of  God  perform  the  office,  not  only  of  a  telescope,  but 
of  a  mirror,  through  which  he  sees  God,  in  which  he 
sees  himself;  and,  as  some  celestial  phenomena  can 
only  be  observed  by  the  assistance  of  reflectors,  so  in 
morals,  man  can  only  see  himself  in  God,  and  never 
becomes  conscious  of  his  littleness  until  it  is  reflect¬ 
ed  from  God’s  greatness.  Hence  the  atheist  must 
be  proud,  because  his  standard  is  so  low,  because 
he  substitutes  for  God,  in  his  comjoarison  of  magni¬ 
tudes,  not  only  man  but  self,  not  only  an  inferior  S23e- 
cies,  but  the  individual  example  of  that  sjiecies,  as  to 
which  he  knows,  or  ought  to  know,  most  evil,  while 
the  true  believer  in  a  God  employs  a  very  different 
measure,  and  sees  his  own  diminutive  proportions 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


341 


constantly  reflected  from  the  glass  of  God’s  majestic 
works  above  ]iim  and  around  him,  he  can  say,  with 
Davidj  When  I  consider  tliy  heavens,  the  work  of  thy 
fingers,  the  moon  and  tiie  stars  which  thou  hast  or¬ 
dained,  what  is  man  that  thou  shouldst  think  of  him, 
or  thinking  of  him,  shouldst  remember  him  or  bear 
in  mind  so  insignificant  an  object — not  as  implying 
any  serious  doubt  as  to  the  fact ;  for  if  there  is  a 
providence  at  all,  it  must  he  a  particular  one.  I4or 
does  the  difficulty  of  the  subject  turn  upon  the  great¬ 
ness  or  smallness  of  the  objects  comprehended  in  its 
scope,  but  on  its  being  exercised  at  all ;  and  if  it  is, 
as  we  are  well  assured,  and  if,  without  it,  not  a  hair 
falls  or  a  sparrow  dies,  how  much  more  may  man  ex¬ 
pect  to  share  in  this  divine  protection,  the  reality  of 
which  is  not  denied  or  even  called  in  question  by  the 
Psalmist,  wdio  is  not  laying  down  a  proposition  or  es¬ 
tablishing  a  doctrine,  but  expressing  a  strong  feeling, 
namely,  that  of  conscious  insignificance  before  God, 
under  the  sense  of  which  he  wonders,  not  whether 
God  thinks,  but  that  ho  should  think  of  an  object  so 
diminutive  ;  or  having  once  thought,  should  remem¬ 
ber  ;  or  remembering,  should  visit  man,  considered  as 
a  race,  or  any  son  of  man  in  particular.  Whether  the 
reference  be  to  figurative  visitations,  such  as  men  are 
hourly  receiving,  or  to  those  more  sensible  theopha- 
nies,  appearances  of  God  in  human  or  angelic  form, 
by  which  the  saints  of  the  Old  Testament  were  some¬ 
times  honoured,  when  about  to  be  called  to  some  ex¬ 
traordinary  duty,  or  distinguished  by  some  signal 
mercy.  What  is  man  that  God  should  thus  remem¬ 
ber  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  God,  in  either  of  the 


342 


SERMONS. 


senses  just  explained,  sliould  visit  liim?  Tliis  feeling 
of  surprise,  though  always  reasonable  and  becoming, 
never  seems  so  natural  as  when  it  is  immediately  sug¬ 
gested  by  the  sight  of  God’s  stupendous  works,  espe¬ 
cially  the  heavens,  which  are  the  work  of  his  fingers, 
the  moon  and  the  stars  which  he  has  ordained. 

It  is  not,  however,  before  these  material  wmrks 
themselves  that  man  is  called  to  bow  wfith  such  a 
deep  conviction  of  his  owm  inferiority.  Matter  is  no 
more  above  mind  upon  a  large  scale  than  a  small  one, 
in  an  earth  than  in  a  clod,  in  a  sea  than  in  a  drop,  in 
a  sun  than  in  a  spark,  in  a  wmrld  than  in  an  atom. 
The  least  mind  is  superior,  in  itself  and  in  the  scale 
of  existence,  to  all  matter.  Man  is  not  bound  to  re¬ 
cognize  either  the  heavens  or  the  heavenly  hosts  as 
his  superiors.  His  homage  is  due,  not  to  them  but 
to  their  maker.  lie  stands  in  sneechless  admiration 
of  them,  only  as  stupendous  proofs  of  God’s  existence 
and  perfections.  In  themselves  considered,  they  are 
man’s  inferiors ;  he  looks  down  upon  them,  nay,  he 
exercises  a  dominion  over  them,  and  that  not  by 
chance  or  usurpation,  but  express  divine  authority. 
For  strange  as  it  might  seem  that  he  who  made  and 
manages  those  shining  wmrlds,  in  all  their  complicat¬ 
ed  systems,  should  remember  man  and  visit  him  in 
favour,  it  is  true,  for  God  made  man  in  his  own  image, 
and  invested  him  with  power  as  his  own  vicegerent, 
with  dominion  over  the  inferior  creation,  so  that  even 
sun,  and  moon,  and  stars,  and  elements,  and  seasons, 
should  contribute  to  his  wealth  and  his  eiijoyment, 
and  the  earth  from  wdiich  he  was  originally  taken  be 
compelled  to  yield  her  fruits  for  his  subsistence,  and 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


343 


tlie  most  mysterious  powers  of  nature  made  to  miniS' 
ter  to  Ins  convenience ;  and  besides  this  strange  sub¬ 
jection  of  inanimate  creation  to  his  interest  and  his 
will,  the  lower  animals  are  pressed  into  his  service, 
even  those  whose  strength  is  far  superior  to  his  own, 
and  who  might  well  seem  able  to  shake  off  his  yoke 
at  an}^  moment,  and  yet  bear  it  with  submission,  not 
as  a  necessary  consequence  of  reason  upon  his  part, 
— for  the  highest  animal  sagacitybrings  with  it  no  such 
relative  superiority  among  the  brutes  themselves — 
but  as  a  relic  and  a  proof  of  man’s  original  formation 
in  God’s  image  and  his  original  vestiture  with  dele¬ 
gated  power  as  God’s  vicegerent  over  the  material 
and  irrational  creation,  in  admiring  retrospect  of 
which  the  Psalmist  says  :  Thou  madest  him  to  have 
dominion  over  the  works  of  thy  hands  ;  thou  didst  put 
all  things  under  his  feet,  all  sheep  and  oxen,  ^ma,  and 
the  beasts  of  the  field,  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  the  fish 
of  the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth  through  the  paths 
of  the  seas.” 

Even  this  honour  put  on  man  as  an  intelligent  and 
spiritual  being,  partaking,  in  this  cardinal  respect,  of 
God’s  own  nature,  although  infinitely  less,  might  seem 
sufficient  of  itself  to  justify  the  bold  assertion,  “  thou 
has  made  him  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,”  or,  as 
the  words  literally  mean,  “hast  made  him  to  lack 
little  of  divinity,”  so  richly  hast  thou  crowned  his 
head  with  glory  and  honour.  Put  the  full  justifica¬ 
tion  of  this  bold  description  is  afforded  by  another 
fact,  as  to  the  most  essential  and  conspicuous  feature 
of  that  image  in  which  man  was  created — his  moral 
similarity  of  nature  and  uniformity  of  will  to  God — 


34:4 


SERMONS. 


coincidence  of  judgment,  disposition,  and  affection ; 
in  a  word,  true  holiness,  tlie  crowning  ex',ellence  of 
God  himself,  without  which  his  created  image  must 
have  been  a  sightless  mask,  a  lifeless  statue,  or  a 
living  hut  soulless  form,  hut  with  which  man  was 
really  invested,  and  possessing  which  he  may,  with¬ 
out  irreverence  or  extravagance,  he  said  to  have  been 
“  made  a  little  lower,”  not  “than  angels”  merely,  but 
than  God  himself,  from  whom  he  differed  only, 
although  infinitely,  in  degree. 

But  although  Adam  might  have  triumphed  in  this 
glorious  and  blessed  likeness,  ho^v  can  we,  or  how 
could  even  he,  who  was  the  man  aftei*  God’s  own 
heart,  but  who  so  often  and  so  bitterly  bewails  his 
own  corruption,  as  one  conceived  in  sin  and  shapen 
in  iniquity,  whose  only  hope  was  in  the  mercy  of  the 
God  against  whom  he  had  sinned,  through  what  illu¬ 
sive  medium  could  even  he  behold  himself  or  the  race 
of  which  he  was  a  member,  as  still  holding  this 
sublime  position,  as  little  lower  than  the  angels,  nay, 
as  lacking  little  of  divinity  ?  If  he,  if  men  in  general, 
had  lost  their  chief  resemblance  to  their  maker ;  if  the 
image  in  which  they  were  made  at  first  had  been  de¬ 
faced  and  broken,  and  their  mutual  communion  turned 
into  estrangement,  and  the  prospect  of  perpetual 
favour  bantered  for  a  fearful  looking  for  of  judgment 
and  fiery  indignation,  how  could  David  wonder  at 
the  honour  and  glory  with  which  man  was  crowned, 
instead  of  standing  horrorstruck  to  see  it  torn  from 
his  dishonoured  brow?  Was  it  because  he  did  not 
know  or  had  forgotten  this  great  flict  in  human  his¬ 
tory  ?  Alas,  his  psalms  are  full  of  it.  Was  it  in 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


345 


musing  recollection  of  a  state  of  things  now  past  and 
never  to  return  ?  But  such  a  glowing  exhibition  of  a 
happiness  and  greatness  irrevocably  lost,  would  be 
unnatural,  irrational,  and  as  such,  inconsistent  with 
his  character  whether  intellectual  or  moral. 

Nor  are  these  unworthy  suppositions  needed  to 
explain  his  language,  which  receives  its  full  solution 
from  the  fact  that  he  contemplates  man,  both  in  the 
future  and  the  past,  as  fallen  and  raised  again,  as  cast 
off  and  restored,  as  lost  in  Adam  and  as  saved  in 
Christ,  not  only  reinstated,  but  exalted  higher ;  for  the 
first  Adam  was  indeed  a  living  soul,  but  the  last 
Adam  is  a  quickening  spirit ;  the  first  man  is  of  the 
earth  earthy,  the  second  man  is  the  Lord  from 
heaven.  Yet  as  the  offence,  so  also  is  the  free  gift, 
for  if  by  one  man’s  offence  death  reigned  by  one, 
much  more  they  which  receive  abundance  of  grace 
and  of  the  gift  of  -righteousness,  shall  reign  in  life  by 
one,  Jesus  Christ.  Without  this  link  the  chain  is 
broken  ;  without  this  simultaneous  view  of  man  as  he 
was  and  is  to  be,  of  the  first  and  second  Adam,  there 
is  something  wanting  in  the  Psalm  itself,  a  flaw,  an 
incongruity,  a  contradiction  between  revelation  and 
experience,  which  can  only  be  removed  by  looking 
down  as  well  as  up  the  stream  of  time,  forward  to 
Christ  as  well  as  backwards  to  Adam.  It  is  therefore 
no  fanciful  accommodation,  but  a  true  and  necessary 
exposition  of  the  Psalmist’s  meaning,  when  the  apostle, 
after  quoting  these  words,  speaks  of  Jesus  as  made  a 
little  lower  than  the  angels  for  the  suffering  of  death, 
that  he  by  the  grace  of  God  might  taste  death  for 
every  man,  and  thereby  reinstate  ns  in  onr  pristine 
VOL.  II. — 15* 


846 


SERMONS. 


exaltation,  renewed  in  the  spirit  of  oiir  minds  and 
clothed  upon  with  that  new  man,  which  is  created 
after  the  likeness  of  God,  in  knowledge,  and  right¬ 
eousness,  and  true  holiness.  (Ephesians  4,  24  ;  Colos- 
sians  3,  10.) 

Not  only  as  a  model  or  example  does  the  second 
Adam  thus  restore  the  race  of  which  he  has  become 
the  head  by  his  assumption  of  its  nature,  so  that  in 
liiin  as  their  representative  they  see  themselves  again 
exalted,  but  by  actual  union  with  him,  they  expe¬ 
rience  a  real  and  substantial  exaltation  from  the 
depths  of  sin  and  misery  to  a  state  of  justification 
through  his  righteousness  and  sanctification  by  the 
power  of  his  Sj^irit,  and  a  consequent  participation  in 
the  elevating  and  ennobling  process  by  which  he  has 
raised  humanity  from  being  almost  lower  than  the 
brutes,  to  bo  again  a  little  lower  than  the  angels,  than 
divinity,  than  God  himself.  How  much  of  all  this 
David  clearly  saw,  we  can  no  more  determine  than 
we  can  look  back  at  noon  and  tell  how  much  of  what 
we  then  see  bathed  in  light  was  visible  at  sunrise  or 
at  daybreak  ;  but  we  do  know  that  the  Saviour  whom 
he  saw  and  whom  w^e  see,  however  great  the  dif¬ 
ference  of  clearness,  is  the  same,  just  as  we  know^  that 
the  skies  which  are  now  telling  the  glory  of  God,  and 
the  starry  firmament  which  now  shows  forth  his 
handy-work,  are  literally  and  truly  the  same  objects 
of  which  David  said,  “  When  I  consider  the  heavens, 
the  work  of  thy  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars,  which 
thou  hast  ordained,  what  is  man  that  thou  shouldst 
remember  him,  or  the  son  of  man  that  thou  shouldst 
visit  him  and  make  him  lack  but  little  of  divinity, 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


347 

and  crown  him  with  glory  and  honour,  and  make  him 
have  dominion  over  the  works  of  thy  hands,  and  put 
all  things  under  his  feet.”  In  Christ  as  the  Head, 
and  in  his  people  as  the  Body,  this  is  gloriously  ful¬ 
filled,  “  for  he  hath  put  all  things  under  his  feet,” 
(1  Cor.  15,  27,)  and  given  him  to  he  head  over  all 
things  to  the  church,  which  is  his  body,  the  fulness 
of  him  that  filleth  all  in  all.”  (Ephesians  1,  22.  23.) 
In  prophetic  foresight  of  the  Saviour  the  inspired 
king  could  say,  and  in  believing  recollection  of  him 
we  can  say,  of  man  not  only  as  he  was  before  the  fall, 
but  as  he  is,  already  fallen,  yet  susceptible  of  restora¬ 
tion  to  God’s  image  and  to  the  dignity  inseparable 
from  it,  thou  hast  made  him  a  little  lower  than  the 
angels  and  hast  crowned  him  with  glory  and  honour. 

The  train  of  thought  which  we  have  been  pursu¬ 
ing,  is  not  only  in  accordance  with  the  general  tenor 
of  the  word  of  God,  but  identical  with  that  which  runs 
through  the  psalm  before  us,  as  expounded  and  ap¬ 
plied  in  the  Hew  Testament,  and  may  be  profitably 
used  by  us  for  the  correction  of  some  common  and 
pernicious  errors.  It  may  serve,  for  example,  as  a 
corrective  of  that  spurious  and  vitiated  taste  which 
many  cherish  for  the  beauties  of  nature,  and  which 
sometimes  verges  towards  the  worst  form  of  idolatry. 
It  is  true,  the  views  wdiich  we  have  taken  are  equally 
adverse  to  the  opposite  extreme  of  sanctimonious  in- 
difierence  or  fanatical  contempt  for  the  material 
works  of  God  ;  to  both  these  forms  of  error  they  afford 
the  only  safe  and  efficacious  antidote,  by  teaching  us 
to  consider  the  heavens”  as  the  work  of  God’s 
fingers,”  the  moon  and  tlie  stars”  as  things  which 


348 


SERMONS. 


lie  has  ordained/’  and  to  derive  from  the  view  of 
his  perfections  thus  suggested,  new  impressions  of 
onr  own  insignificance  and  his  benignant  condescension 
in  originally  placing  man  above  this  glorious  creation 
and  again  restoring  him  when  he  had  fallen.  A 
habitual  contemplation  of  this  aspect  of  God’s  works 
would  be  the  best  corrective,  both  of  the  spurious 
religion  which  ignores  them,  and  of  the  atheism  which 
beautifies  or  the  pantheism  which  deifies  external 
nature. 

hTor  would  this  corrective  influence  be  limited  to 
the  domain  of  sentiment  or  taste  ;  it  might  extend  to 
science,  and  restore  a  healthful  circulation  in  the 
otherwise  inanimate  and  soulless  frame  of  mere  ma¬ 
terial  wisdom,  from  astronomy,  whose  chosen  ’work  it  is 
to  “  consider  the  heavens  the  work  of  God’s  fingers,  the 
moon  and  the  stars  which  he  has  ordained  ;  ”  to  zool¬ 
ogy,  which  pries  into  the  habits  and  the  constitution 
of  the  animal  creation ;  “  all  sheep  and  oxen,  yea,  and 
beasts  of  the  field  ;  the  fowl  of  the  air,  and  the  fish  of 
the  sea,  and  whatsoever  passeth  through  the  paths  of 
the  sea.” 

But  why  should  I  speak  of  this  ameliorating  pro¬ 
cess  as  one  merely  possible,  when  it  is  really  a  matter 
of  experience ;  when  the  cases  of  eminent  investigators 
and  discoverers  who  believe  in  God  and  Christ,  and  who 
apply  to  the  connection  between  physical  and  moral 
truth  the  maxim,  what  God  hath  joined  together  let 
not  man  put  asunder,  are  no  longer  rare  exceptions 
to  the  general  rule  of  sneering  skepticism  or  dogma- 
tizing  unbelief,  but  bid  fair,  in  our  own  day  and 
country,  to  reverse  the  old  relation  between  faith  and 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


349 


infidelity  in  scientific  studies,  by  afibrding  in  tbeir 
own  example  the  most  striking  and  conclusive  proof 
tliat  ignorance  of  God  or  hatred  to  liim  is  by  no 
means  a  prerequisite  to  tliorougli  knowledge,  and  cor¬ 
rect  appreciation  of  bis  works.  When  the  change, 
thus  auspiciously  begun,  shall  be  completed,  we  may 
hope  to  see  it  followed  by  another  in  the  feelings  and 
the  dialect  of  common  life,  as  to  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  a  cessation  of  that  strong  delusion  which  leads 
men  to  shut  their  eyes  upon  the  most  notorious  fact 
in  human  history,  the  fact  of  man’s  apostasy  from 
God,  and  with  impotent  energy  try  to  struggle  back 
to  their  original  position  by  their  own  unaided 
strength,  speaking  and  acting  just  as  if  the  fall  and 
its  effects  were  a  mere  phantasma  and  a  hideous 
dream,  from  which  the  world  was  now  awaking, 
when  in  fact  the  dream  and  the  illusion  are  all  the 
other  way,  and  whoever  is  awakened  from  them, 
must  awake  to  the  discovery,  hoAvever  humbling  and 
unwelcome,  that  man,  though  once  exalted,  is  now 
fallen,  and  can  only  be  restored  by  sovereign  mercy, 
as  offered  and  exercised  through  Jesus  Christ.  The 
soul,  once  roused  from  its  protracted  stupor,  may  dis¬ 
tinctly  read  this  truth  by  looking  inwards  at  the  ruins 
and  remains  of  man’s  original  condition,  at  his  present 
degradation  and  pollution,  and  at  the  aspirations  after 
something  better  which  disturb  him  even  in  his  deep¬ 
est  slumbers  and  his  worst  excesses. 

The  same  thing,  if  he  looks  out  of  himself,  is  legi¬ 
ble  not  only  in  the  word,  but  in  the  works  of  God,  or 
rather  in  the  word  and  works  of  God  together,  in  his 
works  as  expounded  by  his  word  and  Spirit.  How- 


350 


SERMONS. 


ever  blank  or  dark  tlie  universe  may  seem  till  tbns 
illuminated,  wlien  tlie  liglit  does  sliine  upon  it,  tlie 
reawakened  soul  can  no  longer  “  consider  tlie  heavens 
the  work  of  God’s  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars 
which  he  has  ordained,”  without  inquiring,  ^Gvhat  is 
man  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him,  and  the  son  of  man 
that  thou  shouldst  visit  him,  and  make  him  want  but 
little  of  angelic,  nay,  of  godlike  exaltation,  cromied 
with  glory  and  honour,  and  invested  with  dominion 
over  the  irrational  creation  !  ” 

This  conception  of  man’s  pristine  elevation  some¬ 
times  rises  before  the  mind’s  eye,  as  a  beautiful  and 
splendid  image  of  unfallen  humanity,  standing  like  a 
statue  upon  some  triumphal  arch  or  commemorative 
column,  or  suspended  in  mid-air  like  some  celestial 
visitant  surveying  with  compassion  this  inferior 
world.  But  as  we  gaze  upon  it,  and  indulge  the 
fond  imagination  that  the  relative  position  of  the 
race  and  of  the  individual  man  is  still  enchanted,  the 
light  of  revelation  and  experience  grows  brighter,  and 
as  it  reaches  its  extreme  degree,  the  image  vanishes 
away,  as  if  absorbed  in  the  intense  light,  and  the  lofty 
place  so  proudly  occupied  by  man,  is  seen  to  be  a 
blank,  a  vacuum,  an  emj^ty  space,  through  and  be¬ 
yond  which  may  be  seen  the  pure  effulgence  of  the 
divine  perfections,  unobscured,  unsullied  by  a  cloud 
or  spot,  though  man  is  fallen,  fallen  from  his  high 
estate.”  And  as  the  eye  of  the  spectator  shrinks 
from  this  unveiled,  dazzling  brightness,  it  is  suddenly 
relieved  by  an  intervening  object,  at  first  undefined 
and  dubious,  like  a  radiant  cloud  or  mist,  which  by 
degrees  assumes  a  shape  and  a  distinguishable  outline, 


PSALM  8,  1.  9. 


351 


till  at  length  it  can  no  longer  be  mistaken,  as  a  human 
form,  a  man,  the  Son  of  man,  but,  oh,  how  changed, 
how  transfigured  before  ns !  his  face  shines  as  the 
snn  !  his  raiment  is  white  as  the  light !  and  from  the 
bright  cloud  overshadowing  him,  a  voice  comes  forth 
out  of  the  excellent  glorj,  saying,  This  is  my  be¬ 
loved  Son  in  whom  I  am  well  pleased ;  hear  ye  him.’’ 
It  is  indeed  the  Son  of  God,  it  is  indeed  the  Son  of 
man,  the  tyj)e  of  our  humanity  restored  and  glorified. 
Oh  if  this  blessed  sight  could  be  associated,  even  in 
imagination,  with  our  daily  contemplations  of  the 
face  of  nature  ;  if  we  could  not  look  upon  the  heavens 
the  work  of  God’s  fingers,  the  moon  and  the  stars 
which  he  has  ordained,  without  remembering  what 
man  once  was,  what  he  now  is,  and  above  all  what 
he  yet  may  be  ;  we  might  find  not  only  pleasure  in 
prosperity,  but  solace  under  sorrow,  in  contemplating 
the  works  of  God,  not  as  poets,  or  artists,  or  philoso¬ 
phers,  or  atheists,  but  as  Christians,  whose  perspica¬ 
cious  faith  cannot  rest  in  what  is  visible,  but  pierces 
through  the  thin  material  veil  in  search  of  hope  and 
consolation,  just  as  Stephen,  on  the  very  verge  of 
martyrdom,  and  from  the  very  midst  of  his  judicial 
murderers,  “looked  up  steadfastly  into  heaven,  and 
saw  the  glory  of  God,  and  Jesus  standing  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  Father.”  Yes,  there  is  a  sense  in  which 
even  we  might  have  a  right  to  say  as  he  did,  “  Be¬ 
hold,  I  see  the  heavens  opened,  and  the  Son  of  man 
standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God.”  And  though 
the  blinded  world  around  us  niight  cry  out  with  a 
loud  voice,  and  stop  their  ears,  and  run  upon  us  with 
one  accord,  even  they  might  be  compelled  to  take 


352 


SERMONS. 


knowledge  of  us  as  having  been  with  Jesus,  even  they, 
if  they  looked  steadfastly  upon  us,  might  see  the  face 
of  every  one  among  us  beaming  with  unearthly  ra¬ 
diance,  as  if  it  were  the  face  of  an  angel. 

Having  reached  this  point  in  our  experience,  hav¬ 
ing  thus  learned  to  associate  the  material  wmrks  of 
God  with  the  profoundest  views  of  spiritual  truth,  w^e 
should  need  no  further  remedy  for  that  grovelling 
nationality  or  party  spirit,  which  is  apt  to  spring  up 
even  in  renewed  hearts  and  enlightened  minds,  not 
only  in  spite,  but  in  consequence  of  those  very  privi¬ 
leges  which  ought  to  have  forbidden  its  existence,  just 
as  the  Jews  learned  to  associate  their  most  narrow  and 
uncharitable  prejudices  wdth  that  very  name  of  God — 
which  ought  to  have  reminded  them,  at  every  mo¬ 
ment,  that  Jehovah,  though  in  covenant  with  them, 
w^as  not  the  God  of  the  Jews  only,  but  of  the  Gentiles 
also.  If  we  would  shun  the  kindred,  but  more  odious 
error  of  degrading  the  God  whom  we  worship,  and 
the  Christ  in  whom  we  trust,  to  the  level  of  a  local 
chief  or  party  leader,  let  us  here  learn  to  identify 
the  object  of  our  faith  and  adoration  with  the  God 
of  creation  and  of  providence ;  let  us  not  only  read 
the  name  of  God  our  king,  and  God  our  Saviour, 
traced  in  characters  of  light  upon  the  whole  ma¬ 
terial  universe,  but  strive  to  make  it  legible  to 
others  also,  till  the  book  of  nature  and  the  book  of 
revelation  are  enveloped  in  one  vast  illumination,  in 

JL  / 

the  blaze  of  which  all  lesser  lights  are  lost,  and  in  the 
midst  of  which  all  human  tongues  of  man  shall  be 
heard  in  harmony  or  unison,  resjDonding  to  the  loud 
but  speechless  testimony  of  the  heavens ,  Oh  Lord, 
our  Lord,  how  glorious  is  thy  name  in  all  the  earth !  ” 


XIX. 


John  17,  3. — This  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  thee,  the 
only  true  God,  and  Jesus  Christ,  whom  thou  hast  sent. 


It  is  a  glorious  doctrine  tliat  there  is  a  God.  We 
are  forced  to  assume  it,  as  a  first  jirinciple  of  our  re¬ 
ligions  knowledge,  and  perhaps  for  that  very  reason, 
are  prone  to  underrate  or  to  forget  its  value.  To  cor¬ 
rect  this  practical  error,  we  need  only  ask  ourselves, 
what  should  we  he  without  a  knowledge  of  this  great 
truth  ?  Men  may  dispute  as  to  the  mode  in  which 
onr  first  conceptions  of  a  God  have  been  obtained. 
Some  may  derive  it  from  an  observation  of  his  works, 
and  subsequent  reflection  on  them.  Some  may  re¬ 
gard  it  as  innate ;  a  kind  of  invisible  writing  on  the 
soul,  to  be  educed  and  rendered  legible  by  intellectual 
and  moral  culture.  But  this  much  appears  certain  : 
we  can  form  a  concejition  of  a  rational  soul  without 
any  definite  notions  of  God,  even  of  a  God,  of  any 
God. 

"We  can  conceive  of  such  a  soul  with  its  ideas  re¬ 
stricted  to  itself,  or  to  beings  like  itself,  with  no  higher 
standard  or  more  perfect  model  than  that  afforded  by 
its  own  experience,  or  its  observation  of  its  fellows. 


354 


SERMONS. 


Or  if  we  suppose  it  to  rise  liiglier,  as  imagining  one 
like  itself,  but  differing  in  degree  ;  conceiving  only  of 
itself  exalted  to  a  liiglier  rank,  but  witli  no  conception 
of  a  lawgiver,  a  sovereign,  an  almighty  deliverer. 
Such  a  mind  would  be  truly  dark,  compared  wdth  the 
light  which  blazes  around  us. 

But  suppose  a  portion  of  that  light  to  be  let  in 
upon  it  by  degrees,  and  with  it  a  concejition  of  some¬ 
thing  intrinsically  higher,  better,  nobler  than  the  man 
himself,  distinguished  from  him  not  merely  by  an 
individual  or  even  a  specific,  but  by  a  generic  differ¬ 
ence,  possessing  all  that  appears  good  in  us,  but 
without  the  limitations  and  defects  which  mar  it; 
possessing  more  of  knowledge,  power,  and  goodness, 
much  more,  vastly  more,  infinitely  more.  This  is  a 
great  advance  upon  his  previous  conceptions,  this  is 
the  idea  of  a  God,  however  vague  and  immature  ;  it 
is  a  new  and  grand  idea,  it  presents  a  new  aim  and  a 
higher  standard,  something  to  which  the  awakened 
soul  can  now  look  up,  and  towards  which  it  can 
stretch  in  emulous  desire  to  rise  above  itself.  Even 
by  removing  all  limitation,  and  by  raising  every  ex¬ 
cellence  to  the  highest  pitch  conceivable,  we  come  to 
the  idea  of  perfection,  at  least  negatively ;  and  this, 
if  not  all  that  is  attainable,  is  certainly  a  great  ad¬ 
vance  from  nothing  or  from  self  to  God,  to  the  notion 
of  a  perfect  object  for  our  contemplation,  our  desire, 
our  love. 

But  this  idea  of  perfection  may  itself  be  imperfect. 
The  mind  may  leave  out  of  view  some  essential  attri¬ 
butes,  or  view  them  in  a  false  light  and  in  dispropor¬ 
tion.  It  may  even  view  them  as  abstractions  not 


JOHN  17,  3. 


355 


inlierent  in  a  personal  subject,  inherent  only  in  the 
universe,  or  in  its  parts,-  or  in  the  powers  of  nature, 
or  in  deified  men,  or  in  lower  animals,  or  in  artificial 
idols.  This  is  heathenism  in  its  various  gradations. 
But  even  where  these  grosser  errors  are  avoided  or 
escaped,  the  view  may  be  confined  to  what  the  older 
theologians  called  the  natural  attributes  of  God,  to 
the  exclusion  of  the  moral.  The  power,  wisdom, 
omnipresence,  and  omniscience  of  the  deity  may  bo 
contemplated  alone.  Increase  the  light  so  far  as  to 
afford  a  glimpse  of  his  truth,  justice,  holiness,  benevo¬ 
lence,  and  mercy.  Wliat  an  advance  is  this  upon  the 
previous  conception,  even  of  an  allwise  and  almighty 
being  !  It  is  scarcely  less  than  that  before  described  ! 

But  even  among  the  moral  attributes  of  deity  so 
called,  some  may  be  acknowledged  to  the  exclusion 
of  the  rest.  Tie  may  seem  all  mercy  and  no  justice, 
giving  license  to  transgression ;  or  all  justice  and  no 
mercy,  driving  the  guilty  to  despair.  So  too  with  his 
natural  perfections ;  his  wisdom  may  be  exalted  at 
the  cost  of  his  omnipotence,  a  wisdom  utterly  unable 
to  effect  its  own  designs;  "or  his  pov/er  may  appear 
divorced  from  wisdom,  a  blind,  unintelligent  brute 
force.  All  these  varieties  of  error  are  not  only  possi¬ 


ble,  but  have  been  really  exemplified  in  systems  of 
religion  and  ifiiilosophy,  and  in  the  tentative  inquiries 
of  the  individual  speculator  on  the  mode  of  the  divine 
existence.  But  let  these  discordant  views  be  brought 
into  harmony  and  due  proportion,  as  the  light  of  day 
reduces  objects  magnified  and  distorted  by  the  du¬ 
bious  twilight,  and  how  astonishing  the  change !  It 
is  like  a  new  revelation.  What  before  appeared  in 


356 


SERMONS. 


conflict  now  liarmonionsly  co-operates  ;  things  which 
seemed  contradictory,  illustrate  one  another.  This  is 
indeed  perfection.  What  was  seen  before  was  hut  a 
name,  this  is  the  reality  ;  that  was  called  a  perfect 
being,  but  this  is  one  ;  that  was  the  vague  conception 
of  a  God,  this  is  the  God,  this  the  tiaoe  God. 

But  even  here  experience  proves  that  men  may 
cling  to  the  idea  of  plurality,  as  something  at  least 
possible.  Why  may  there  not  be  many  perfect  be¬ 
ings  ?  The  very  question  implies  some  defect  in  the 
idea  of  perfection.  That  supreme  perfection  in  one 
being  must  exclude  it  in  all  others,  is  a  higher  refine¬ 
ment  to  which  even  wise  men  have  not  always  at¬ 
tained.  Hence  the  doctrine  of  the  divine  unity ;  of 
monotheism  as  opposed  both  to  polytheism  and  to 
pantheism,  is  a  further  advance  upon  the  steps  which 
we  suppose  to  have  been  already  taken  in  the  idea] 
progress  of  a  soul  from  total  ignorance  of  God  towards 
just  and  clear  conceptions  of  his  nature.  That  the 
unity  of  the  divine  nature  stands  nearer  to  the  end 
than  the  beginning  of  this  progress,  is  apparent  from 
the  fact,  that  in  proportion  as  the  unassisted  powers 
of  the  human  mind  have  risen  to  more  just  views  of 
the  deity,  the  number  of  the  beings  in  whom  it  was 
supposed  to  reside  has  always  been  diminished,  some¬ 
times  from  many  thousands  to  a  few  hundreds,  then 
to  scores  and  tens,  until  it  has  reached  two,  where 
many,  with  the  Gnostics  and  the  Manichees,  and 
other  dualists  have  stuck  fast,  unable  to  account  for 
the  existence  of  evil,  except  upon  the  supposition  of 
two  co-eternal  but  antagonistic  principles.  When 
this  last  difficulty  has  been  vanquished,  and  the  one- 


JOHN  17,  3. 


357 


ness  of  the  Godhead  seen  to  he  essentia]  to  his  abso¬ 
lute  perfection,  men  have  sometimes  stood  still  in 
amazement  at  their  own  delay  in  reaching  a  conclu¬ 
sion  wdiich  now  seems  to  them  not  only  obvious  but 
unavoidable.  And  if  we  may  suppose  a  single  mind 
to  have  been  brought  through  all  these  stages  of  con¬ 
viction  and  illumination,  and  to  look  back  from  the 
last  through  those  by  which  it  was  preceded,  to  the 
distant  starting-point  of  its  ascent,  it  is  easy  to  con¬ 
ceive  of  the  astonishment  with  which  such  an  inquirer 
would  survey  the  vast  strides  by  which  lie  had  passed 
from  darkness  to  twilight,  from  twilight  to  the  dawn, 
and  from  the  dawn  to  the  meridian  blaze  of  clearly 
revealed  truth — from  no  god  to  a  god,  from  a  god  to 
the  god,  the  first  to  whom  there  is  no  second,  the  whole 
in  whom  there  are  no  parts,  ^Ghe  only  true  God.” 

I  say  this  is  a  glorious  doctrine.  It  is  a  glorious 
thing  to  know  the  true  God,  even  in  the  lowest  sense ; 
to  know  that  he  exists,  to  see  the  proofs,  to  feel  the 
necessity  of  his  existence.  Even  in  this,  supposing 
it  to  be  possessed  alone,  there  would  be  something 
elevating  and  enlarging  in  the  capacity  to  frame  such 
a  conception  of  the  true  God,  even  as  remote,  even  as 
an  object  of  mere  speculative  contemplation.  How 
much  more  to  feel  his  influence  !  If  it  is  a  privilege 
and  honour  to  behold,  by  the  artificial  aid  of  glasses, 
those  heavenly  bodies  which  directly  and  sensibly 
affect  us  least,  how  must  we  feel  towards  those  which 
are  revealed  to  the  unassisted  eye,  if  free  from  all  ob¬ 
struction  and  disease,  and  whose  effects  are  matters 
of  perpetual  experience  ?  So,  too,  the  soul,  when  once 
brought  to  contemplate  God,  the  only  true  God,  feels 


358 


SERMONS. 


a  desire,  or  at  least  a  need  of  some  more  intimate  re¬ 
lation  to  liim.  Not  contented  with  his  light,  it  craves 
his  heat,  or  in  its  absence,  feels  itself  to  be  forever 
cold  and  dead.  Under  this  impression,  in  obedience 
to  the  law  of  oiir  original  constitution,  many  a  great 
but  half-enlightened  mind  has  yearned  after  intimate 
communion  with  that  God  whom  it  has  learned  to 
contemj)late,  with  an  eye  of  speculative  reason,  as 
possessed  of  all  conceivable  perfection.  But  this  in¬ 
stinctive  movement  is  repressed  by  new  discoveries, 
disclosing  the  necessity  of  further  and  still  clearer 
revelations  of  the  object  which  appeared  to  be  com¬ 
pletely  unveiled  to  the  eye  of  the  spectator. 

I  have  supposed  the  inquirer,  in  the  process  which 
has  been  described,  to  set  out  from  himself,  and  by 
removing  all  that  seems  imperfect  and  corrupt,  and 
indefinitely  magnifying  all  that  we  regard  as  good  in 
his  own  constitution,  to  arrive  at  last  at  the  concep¬ 
tion  of  a  God.  From  the  very  nature  of  this  process, 
it  involves  comparison  at  every  step,  between  God 
and  liimself.  And  this  comparison  inevitably  carries 
with  it  a  conviction  of  inferiority,  a  sense  of  insignifi¬ 
cance  and  meanness.  This  could  not  fail  to  arise, 
even  from  the  contemplation  of  God’s  natural  perfec¬ 
tions,  his  power  and  his  wisdom,  as  contrasted  with 
the  ignorance  and  weakness  of  his  creatures.  No 
wonder  that  it  sliould  be  so,  when  God  and  he  are  at 
the  opposite  extremities  of  the  scale,  through  which 
he  has  been  passing  in  his  quest  of  infinite  perfection. 
In  proportion  as  his  views  of  God  have  risen  higher, 
must  his  views  of  himself  have  become  more  hum¬ 
bling,  even  in  reference  to  natural  qualities. 


JOHN  ir,  3. 


359 


But  lie  cannot  confine  liis  view  to  these.  If 
really  enlightened  as  to  the  divine  nature,  he  must 
see  that  its  moral  perfections  are  not  only  real  hut 
essential,  and  that  these  must  be  taken  into  the  ac¬ 
count  in  measuring  the  interval  between  himself  and 
God.  This  new  and  more  complete  comparison  in¬ 
variably  produces  a  deep  sense  not  only  of  physical 
inferiority,  but  of  moral  uncongeniality.  The  more 
correct  his  notion  of  God,  the  more  clearly  must  he 
see  that  holiness  is  necessarily  included  in  it,  and  the 
more  distinct  his  view  of  that  holiness,  the  more  vivid 
and  paihful  the  sense  of  his  own  sinfulness,  because  it 
essentially  consists  in  opposition  to  that  holiness  of 
God  which  he  now  sees  so  clearly.  This  is  in  fact 
necessary  to  a  just  view  of  the  divine  nature  on  the 
part  of  fallen  creatures.  Where  there  is  no  sense  of 
sin,  there  is  no  apppreciation  of  God’s  holiness. 

This  is  to  fallen  man  the  natural  order  of  his 
thouo-hts  and  his  discoveries.  We  do  not  first  see 

O 

God,  and  then  by  contrast  with  his  holiness,  discover 
what  sin  is.  It  might  be  so  wfith  other  beings,  or 
with  man  before  his  fall,  but  it  is  not  so  with  us.  It 
is  the  gnawing  sense  of  guilt  that  leads  men  to  their 
first  discoveries  of  God  in  the  perfection  of  his  nature. 
The  reproofs  of  conscience  presuppose  a  law,  discrim¬ 
inating  between  right  and  wrong ;  and  such  a  law 
presupposes  a  lawgiver.  It  is  not  before  a  mere  ab¬ 
straction  tliat  man  trembles,  but  before  a  personal 
aveno-er.  While  the  conscience  still  remains  insensi- 
ble,  the  proofs  of  God’s  existence  may  make  slight  im¬ 
pressions  on  the  understanding.  But  when  conscience 
is  aroused,  and  man  confesses  to  himself,  if  not  to 


360 


SERMONS. 


others,  that  he  is  a  sinner,  his  thoughts  are  irresistibly 
borne  onward  to  the  bar  at  which  he  is  to  be  ar¬ 
raigned,  to  the  judgment-seat  and  him  who  sits 
upon  it. 

This  indivisible  connection  between  conscience  and 
the  being  of  a  God  is  far  beyond  the  reach  of  sophis¬ 
try  ;  this  witness  cannot  be  silenced  or  gainsayed,  and 
if  its  testimony  be  for  a  time  suppressed  or  disre¬ 
garded,  it  will  yet  speak  out,  in  shrieks  or  whispers, 
in  some  emergency  of  life,  upon  the  death-bed,  or  in 
hell,  bringing  home  the  irresistible  conviction  that 
there  is  a  just  and  holy  God,  against  wdiom  we  have 
sinned,  and  from  whom  we  are  to  receive  our  ever¬ 
lasting  portion.  It  is  the  want  of  this  convincing 
evidence,  at  least  in  any  adequate  degree,  that  dims 
the  clearest  speculations  of  the  heathen  sages.  Be¬ 
cause  they  had  no  due  sense  of  sin,  they  had  and 
could  have  no  correct  conception  of  that  God  against 
whom  all  sin  is  committed,  and  to  whose  very  nature, 
no  less  than  his  will,  it  is  essentially  opposed.  Hence 
too  the  wisest  of  the  heathen,  those  who  approached 
nearest  to  the  Soriptures  in  their  views  of  the  divine 
perfections,  are  precisely  those  who  seem  to  have 
had  the  most  definite,  experimental  sense  of  sin.  The 
same  thing  is  exemplified  in  Christian  errorists.  The 
further  they  recede  from  deep  and  thorough  views  of 
sin,  the  more  they  are  disposed  to  extenuate  it,  the 
more  jejune  do  they  become  in  their  conceptions  of 
the  divine  nature,  till  in  many  cases  God  becomes  t" 
them  a  name,  an  idea,  an  abstraction,  a  nonentity. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  clearer  the  conception 
of  God’s  holiness,  the  deeper  the  conviction  of  man’s 


361 


JOHN  17,  3. 

vileness ;  so  tliat  nothing  more  contributes  to  this  deep 
biimiliation  than  enlarging  views  of  tlie  divine  per¬ 
fection,  forcing  the  self-convicted  sinner  to  exclaim 
with  Job,  I  have  beard  of  tbee  by  tbe  bearing  of 
tbe  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seetb  tbee ;  wbereforc  I 
abbor  myself  and  repent  in  dust  and  asbes !  ’’ 

And  tbis  sense  of  vileness  cannot  be  separated 
from  an  apprebension  of  God’s  wratb,  and  a  desire  to 
escape  it.  Tbe  man  can  no  longer  be  contented  witb 
a  scientific  contemplation  of  tbe  deity;  be  feels  bis 
alienation,  and  bis  need  of  reconciliation,  and  be  asks, 
can  God  communicate  witb  fallen  creatures  ?  will  bis 
boliness  admit  of  it  ?  bis  justice  suffer  it  ?  And  if  be 
can  thus  condescend  to  deal  witb  sinners,  will  be  ? 
lias  be  done  so  ?  lias  be  ever  sent  a  message  to  man 
since  tlie  fall  ?  Tbe  knowledge  tliat  be  can  renew  tbe 
intercourse  witbout  a  violation  of  bis  attributes  is 
blessed  knowledge  tliat  be  will ;  still  more  so  tliat  be 
lias  already  actually  done  it  is  a  glorious  revelation, 
prompting  tbe  earnest,  passionate  inquiry,  when, 
where,  bow  ?  what  has  be  sent  ?  whom  lias  be  sent  ? 

Tbe  answer  to  tbis  question  brings  us  on  still 
further  in  our  search  for  God.  He  has  sent  us  a 
message  in  bis  word,  indited  by  bis  Spirit,  a  written 
revelation,  perfectly  consonant  witb  that  in  nature, 
but  transcending  it,  and  going  far  beyond  it ;  so  that 
one  of  these  great  volumes  serves  to  illustrate  and 
expound  tbe  other.  When  we  open  tbis  new  volume, 
it  is  to  meet  a  new  disclosure.  Tie  lias  not  only  sent 
a  message,  but  a  messenger — a  living  representative, 
a  personal  ambassador.  He  lias  sent  not  only  bis 
own  Spirit  in  bis  word  and  in  tbe  hearts  of  men,  but 
VOL.  n. — 16 


362 


SERMONS. 


liis  own  Son,  the  brightness  of  his  glory,  the  express 
image  of  his  person — not  a  created  representative,  bnt 
God  manifest  in  the  flesh,  the  great  mystery  of  godli  • 
ness,  or  of  the  Godhead,  the  unity  of  persons  in  that 
one  divine  essence — a  secret  hidden  from  philosophers, 
and  held  back  even  from  the  chosen  people,  or  imper¬ 
fectly  disclosed  to  them  in  types  and  symbols,  per¬ 
haps  to  save  them  from  polytheism  until  they  were 
established  in  the  doctrine  of  God’s  unity,  bnt  now 
brought  to  light  in  the  gospel,  a  new  and  glorious 
light,  transcending  all  our  previous  discoveries — three 
persons  and  one  God — the  Son  and  the  Spirit  the 
reveal ers  of  the  Father,  sent  by  him  for  this  very 
purpose,  the  Spirit  in  his  word  and  in  the  hearts  of 
his  people  ;  but  his  mission  is  dependent  upon  that 
of  the  Son,  who  comes  in  human  flesh  to  reveal  the 
Father,  to  instruct,  to  conquer,  to  atone — first  as  the 
angel  of  the  covenant,  then  as  the  Messiah,  the  anoint¬ 
ed — as  a  prophet  to  instruct,  as  a  king  to  conquer,  as 
a  priest  to  expiate,  as  a  Saviour  to  redeem — the 
Christ — Jesus — both  together  Jesus  Christ — the  an¬ 
ointed  Saviour,  the  Son  of  God  and  the  Son  of  man — 
God  and  sent  of  God — man  and  sent  to  man.  This  is 
indeed  the  onlv  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  he 

c/ 

has  sent.  What  a  privilege  to  know  this  Saviour,  not 
apart  from  God  or  independently  of  him,  but  as  essen¬ 
tially  one  with  him.  FTone  knoweth  the  Father  but 
the  Son,  and  he  to  whom  the  Son  revealeth  him.  We 
cannot  know  God  without  him.  He  is  the  great  re- 
vealer  of  the  Father — his  Word,  his  Wisdom.  Our 
notions,  which  might  else  be  too  abstract,  are  em¬ 
bodied  and  realized  in  him.  Even  in  theory,  our 


JOHN  ir,  8. 


363 


views  of  God  are  too  vague  without  Christ,  and  un¬ 
less  taken  through  him.  But  there  is  still  another 
and  a  far  stronger  reason  why  we  must  come  to  God 
through  him.  God  is  holy,  and  we  are  sinners.  As 
an  absolute  sovereign,  as  a  righteous  judge,  he  is  for¬ 
ever  inaccessible.  Our  God  is  a  consuming  tire,  to 
wdiich  no  man  can  approach  and  live.  Christ  is  the 
way,  the  truth,  and  the  life.  We  may  come  to  God 
through  him,  not  only  as  a  man  hut  as  a  Saviour.  It 
is  through  this  new  and  living  way  that  we  may  ven¬ 
ture  to  approach.  God  brings  us  near  to  himself 
through  the  blood  of  the  everlasting  covenant.  There 
is  forgiveness  with  him  that  he  may  be  feared.  We 
are  forgiven  that  we  may  know  him. 

It  is  only  thus  that  w^e  can  know  him,  and  that 
not  speculatively  but  experimentally.  We  may  know 
him  as  a  merciful  and  sin-pardoning  God.  We  may 
know  him  as  ours  by  faith  and  a  self-ap^^ropriating 
knowledge.  In  our  own  happy  experience  w^e  may 
know,  not  only  that  he  is,  but  that  he  is  a  rewarder 
of  those  diligently  seeking  him.  We  may  know  him 
as  a  child  knows  its  parent,  with  a  knowledge  which 
cannot  be  mistaken,  or  confound  its  object  with  an¬ 
other — a  knowledge  necessarily  including  trust,  es¬ 
teem,  and  intimate  communion.  To  know  God  is  to 
love  him.  All  alienation  here  implies  some  defect  of 
knowledge.  To  know  God  in  Christ  is  to  know  him 
as  a  Saviour,  and  to  trust  in  him  as  such.  To  know 
him  is  to  know  his  Holy  Spirit,  and  to  seek  his  influ¬ 
ences,  and  to  have  them.  All  this  is  really  included 
in  the  knowledge  of  the  only  true  God  and  Jesus 
Christ  whom  ho  has  sent. 


364 


SERMONS. 


Now  this  experimental  knowledge  of  the  highest 
good,  when  imparted  to  a  lost  and  ruined  world,  is 
life.  Look  abroad  upon  the  valley  of  dry  bones  by 
which  you  are  surrounded, — see  all  the  elements  of 
our  moral  constitution  dislocated,  decomposed,  dis¬ 
solved, — a  wide-spread  scene  of  confusion  and  cor¬ 
ruption,  in  which  matter  and  form  may  still  be  recog¬ 
nized.  But  life  is  wanting — all  is  dead.  Philosopliy 
has  lavished  its  experiments  upon  it  for  a  course  of 
ages,  but  with  no  effect,  excejDt  to  aggravate  the 
ghastliness  of  death  by  occasional  spasms  of  apj)arent 
life.  To  this  scene  of  mournful  desolation  and  decay 
introduce  the  knowledge  of  God,  the  true  God,  the 
only  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  wdiom  he  has  sent. 
This  is  precisely  what  was  wanting — it  is  life,  it  is 
life  from  the  dead :  the  effect  is  instantaneous  and 
electric  ;  the  graves  of  humanity  are  opened ;  see,  it 
bursts  its  cerements  and  comes  forth  in  a  blessed 
resurrection,  alive  to  God,  to  holiness,  to  happiness  ; 
the  paralyzed  faculties  begin  to  move  ;  the  affections 
are  restored  to  their  forsaken  objects ;  the  harmony 
and  balance  of  the  powers  is  reinstated ;  darkness  is 
turned  to  light,  weakness  to  strength,  death  to  life ; 
old  things  are  j)assed  away,  all  things  are  become 
new. 

But  what  if  this  new  life,  all  glorious  as  it  is, 
should  prove  to  be  but  transient,  evanescent,  like  a 
pleasing  dream  ?  But  see,  it  stretches  out  into  the 
future,  and  as  it  advances,  all  checks  are  removed. 
It  swells,  it  grows  ;  life  from  the  dead  is  followed  by 
no  new  vicissitude  :  man  lives  to  die  no  more.  We 
may  look  for  decay  and  retrocession,  but  it  comes  not. 


JOHN  17,  3. 


365 


God  is  iiiichaiigeable,  so  is  the  new  relation  of  the 
soul  to  him  ;  it  cannot  fail  until  the  mercy  of  the 
Father  and  the  merit  of  the  Son,  and  the  influences 
of  the  Spirit  are  exhausted  ;  it  is  a  new  creation  ;  it 
is  a  new  world  ;  and  the  life,  instead  of  failing,  grows 
more  real  and  abundant  till  it  reaches  the  verge  of 
this  world,  and  launches  forth  into  a  new  state  of  ex¬ 
istence,  but  not  there  to  die  ;  it  lives  in  those  waters 
of  eternal  being,  buffets  the  weaves  of  that  shoreless 
ocean,  rises  and  falls  upon  their  crests,  and  by  them 
is  borne  on  and  on  beyond  our  view.  It  is  forever. 
Yes,  it  is  forever.  Yes,  this  new  life  is  eternal.  Well 
might,  the  great  Higli  Priest  of  our  profession,  in  his 
sacerdotal  prayer,  say  of  his  followers  and  of  all  who 
should  believe  u^^on  him  tlirough  their  word — ‘‘  And 
this  is  life  eternal,  that  they  might  know  thee,  the 
only  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  thou  hast 
sent.” 

To  be  ignorant  of  all  this  is  a  terrible  condition  ; 
but  there  is  another  still  more  fearful,  I  mean  that  of 
knowing  it  but  only  as  a  speculative  truth.  Yes, 
the  thickest  darkness  of  the  heathen  mind  in  refer¬ 
ence  to  these  great  truths,  though  more  degrading  in 
itself,  and  in  its  present  effects,  is  less  appalling  in 
its  influence  on  character  and  destiny,  than  barren, 
unavailing,  unbelieving  knowledge.  Why  ?  because 
opposition  or  indifference  to  the  truth  is  never  a  mere 
intellectual  deficiency  or  error,  but  invariably  the 
fruit  of  moral  dispositions.  The  ear  which  vail  not 
hear  wlieii  God  speaks,  and  the  eye  which  cannot  sec 
with  all  the  light  which  he  affords,  are  sins  of  a  cor¬ 
rupted  and  hard  heart ;  and  he  who  finds  himself  in 


366 


SEEMONS. 


this  position,  instead  of  pitying  the  blindness  of  the 
heathen  and  the  doom  to  which  it  is  conducting  them, 
may  almost  envy  their  sn2:)erior  chance  of  clemency 
at  God’s  bar,  in  comparison  with  those  who  know  and 
even  boast  of  knowing  who  he  is  and  what  he  has 
already  done  for  man’s  salvation,  and  yet  proudly  say 
by  every  action  of  their  lives  that  they  will  not  he 
saved  in  this  way,  or  rather  that  they  need  not  to  be 
saved  at  all.  For  this,  disguise  it  as  you  will,  my 
hearer,  is  the  genuine  spirit  of  your  life,  if  not  the 
language  of  your  lips,  so  long  as  you  remain  contented 
with  a  cold  intellectual  assent  to  the  great  doctrine 
of  one  only  true  God  and  of  Jesus  Christ  whom  he 
has  sent.  For  nothing  can  be  clearer  than  that  this 
one  true  God  is  a  God  of  infinite  holiness  and  justice, 
and  that  these  perfections  of  his  nature  make  the  pun¬ 
ishment  of  sin  an  absolute  necessity,  and  that  this 
necessity  can  only  be  avoided  in  the  person  of  the 
sinner  by  the  transfer  of  his  guilt  to  another,  and  that 
Jesus  Christ  whom  God  has  sent  was  sent  for  this 
very  purpose. 

These  are  not  mere  circumstantial  adjuncts  of  the 
great  trutlis  which  we  have  been  considering,  but  in¬ 
tegral  and  essential  elements.  There  is  no  revelation 
of  the  one  true  God  which  is  not  a  revelation  of  his 
holiness,  i.  e.  the  opposition  of  his  nature  to  all  sin, 
for  what  is  sin  but  opposition  to  his  nature  and  his 
will,  and  how  can  he  but  be  opposed  to  his  own  oppo¬ 
site,  or  fail,  in  the  exercise  of  infinite  rectitude  and 
230wer,  to  destroy  it  ?  And  again,  if  you  exclude  from 
your  idea  of  the  Christ  whom  he  has  sent  the  capacity 
and  will  to  save,  by  self-substitution  for  the  actual 


JOHN  17,  3. 


367 


offender,  wliat  is  left  ?  If  yon  leave  this  ont,  you  have 
not  even  a  correct  intellectual  apprehension  of  the 
one  true  God  and  Jesus  Christ  whom  he  has  sent, 
and  must  suffer  the  same  consequences  from  the  want 
of  this  essential  knowledge  that  you  pity  in  the  doom 
of  the  poor  heathen. 

If  you  take  all  this  in — if  you  know  God  as  a  God 
of  perfect  holiness  and  justice,  and  Jesus  Christ  whom 
he  has  sent  as  a  divine  and  all-sufficient  Saviour,  and 
yet  bid  defiance  to  the  one  by  refusing  to  accept  the 
other,  your  fate  can  differ  from  the  heathen’s  only  as 
the  fate  of  one  who  stumbles  in  the  dark  ought  to 
differ  from  the  fall  of  one  who  rushes  to  destruction 
with  his  eyes  wide  open,  and  amidst  the  blaze  of 
noon.  The  course  of  duty  and  of  safety  then  is  plain. 
Eepent,  believe,  submit  to  God  by  accepting  of  his 
Son,  and  thus  prove  by  your  own  experience  that  this 
is  indeed  eternal  life,  to  know  the  only  true  God  and 
J  esus  Christ  whom  he  has  sent. 


Psalm  51,  lY. — The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit:  a  broken 
and  a  contrite  heart,  0  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise. 


The  process  of  salvation  is,  and  must  remain,  a 
mystery  to  those  who  never  shall  experience  its  power. 
They  may  apprehend  correctly  the  great  doctrines  of 
religion  ;  they  may  make  nice  and  accurate  distinc¬ 
tions  in  theology ;  they  may  speculate  ingeniously, 
and  reason  powerfully,  as  to  the  nature  and  the  means 
of  conversion  ;  but  they  never  can  be  made  to  under¬ 
stand,  without  experience,  the  mysteries  of  saving  and 
regenerating  grace ;  tlie  j)i’^ictical  mysteries  of  that 
deep,  noiseless,  thorough,  total,  lasting  change,  ef¬ 
fected  in  the  hearts  of  men  by  one  touch  of  God’s 
finger — by  one  breath  of  his  Spirit.  And  yet  the  wmrk 
is  going  on  among  them  without  ceasing.  Ah  !  how 
little  do  the  unconverted  know  of  what  is  passing  in 
the  bosoms  of  their  neighbours.  How  little  does  their 
shallow,  superficial  experience,  teach  them  of  tlie 
depths  of  their  own  hearts,  until  the  fountains  of  that 
great  abyss  are  broken  up  and  the  windows  of  heaven 
0]3ened  from  above  by  the  same  almighty  power. 

The  sanctuary  where  the  broken-hearted  sinner 


PSALM  51,  17. 


369 


seeks  and  finds  a  refuge,  may  be  likened  to  a  temple 
in  the  midst  of  a  great  city,  passed  by  thousands 
every  hour,  but  entered  only  by  a  few  ;  and  yet  it  is 
separated  from  the  crowded  thoroughfare  by  no  solid 
wall,  or  massive  seats,  but  by  a  veil  or  curtain  which 
the  hand  of  faith  and  penitence  may  raise  at  pleasure, 
and  through  which  a  strange  light  glimmers  from 
within  and  strange  sounds  fall  upon  the  ear  of  passers 
by.  And  ever  and  anon  some  one  stops  to  gaze  and 
listen  ;  he  stands  still  for  a  moment  and  then  hurries 
on ;  another  stops,  and  moved  by  curiosity  draws 
nearer  to  the  entrance,  listens,  wavers,  turns  avmy, 
and  passes  on.  Another  draws  still  nearer,  looks  and 
listens,  lays  his  hand  upon  the  curtain,  and  then 
draws  back  from  the  very  threshold  and  is  seen  no 
more.  Another  stops  to  look  and  listen,  not  from  idle 
curiosity,  but  weary,  weak,  and  sick  at  heart,  des¬ 
pairing  of  a  refuge  from  the  evils  which  pursue  him  ; 
he  falls  prostrate  on  the  threshold — the  veil  rises  for 
a  moment — he  is  drawn  within  its  shelter,  and  is  seen 
no  more. 

But  I  have  represented  some  who  do  not  enter,  as 
listeners  at  the  threshold ;  these  are  they  who  treat 
religion  with  respect  and  curiosity,  but  never  know  its 
powder.  As  they  stand  and  gaze  at  the  mysterious 
shadows  wdiich  are  thrown  njmn  the  curtain  from 
within,  the  sound  of  many  miugled  voices  strikes  their 
ears.  These  they  know  to  be  the  voices  of  regenerated 
sinners,  the  elect  of  God.  But  it  is  not  the  voice  of 
triumph  which  they  thought  to  hear ;  it  is  not  the 
voice  of  them  that  sliout  for  mastery,  nor  yet  the 
voice  of  them  that  sing  for  jo}^ ;  it  is  more  like  ‘‘the 

VOL.  II. — 


370 


SERMONS. 


voice  of  tliem  tliat  cry  for  being  overcome.”  It  is  a 
voice  of  suppressed  wailing  from  a  multitude  of  bro¬ 
ken  and  of  breaking  hearts,  going  up  like  melancholy 
music  to  the  ears  of  the  Lord  God  of  Sabaoth  !  As 
the  veil  of  the  temple  is  shaken  by  the  wind,  the  lis¬ 
tener  gets  a  glimpse  of  its  interior ;  he  sees  an  altar 
— an  altar  of  atonement — not  an  altar  of  oblation — 
not  an  altar  of  burnt  offering — but  an  altar  of  incense. 
The  bloody  sacrifice  has  been  already  offered,  and  ac- 
•cepted,  and  applied.  The  blood  has  been  sprinkled 
and  the  vapour  has  ascended  ;  and  the  ]3enitent  who 
laid  his  hand  upon  the  victim’s  head  approaches  to 
the  golden  altar,  not  to  purchase  pardon  but  to  offer 
gifts.  And  on  the  altar  the  oblation  lies — a  heart — 
a  bruised  and  broken  heart — a  heart  once  stained, 
alas,  how  deeply,  but  no^y  fresh  from  the  laver  of  re¬ 
generation  ;  a  heart  pierced  with  many  sorrows,  the 
deep  scars  of  which  remain,  but  now  melted  and  bro¬ 
ken  by  the  fire  and  the  hammer  of  God’s  efficacious 
word.  There  it  lies  encompassed  in  the  newly-kindled 
flame  of  pure  and  holy  love  ;  and  as  it  burns  there 
unconsumed,  a  sweet  and  solemn  voice,  like  the  voice 
of  a  parent  to  a  suffering  child,  says  :  “  My  son,  give 
me  thine  heart ;  ”  and  another  one,  still  tremulous 
with  weeping,  cries  out  from  beneath  the  altar  :  ‘‘My 
heart  is  fixed,  oh  God,  my  heart  is  fixed  ;  ”  and  then 
a  multitude  of  voices,  like  the  sound  of  rushing  waters, 
are  heard  saying  all  together  :  “  The  sacrifices  of  God 
are  a  broken  spirit :  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O 
God,  thou  wilt  not  despise.” 

It  is  this  that  the  proud,  the  sensual,  and  the 
frivolous  cannot  understand.  It  is  this  mysterious 


PSALM  51,  17. 


371 


sacrifice  of  broken  hearts  at  which  they  wonder  or  at 
which  they  laugh.  Apart  from  all  mistake  as  to  the 
fundamental  doctrine  of  atonement,  they  still  stumble 
at  this  stumbling  stone.  Who  can  tell  what  merri¬ 
ment  the  men  of  this  world  have  derived,  in  this  and 
other  ages,  from  the  sighs  and  tears  of  penitence? 
How  many  sound  and  good  hearts,  in  the  world’s  es¬ 
timation  and  their  own,  have  been  made  glad  and 
proud  of  their  own  greatness,  by  the  anguish  of  some 
broken  spirit,  by  the  agonizing  throbs  of  some  contrite 
and  broken  heart.  In  multitudes  of  cases  the  con¬ 
tempt  and  the  derision  have  been  never  known  to 
him  who  was  their  object,  but  in  multitudes  of  others, 
the  first  pangs  of  godly  sorrow  have  been  strangely 
mingled  with  the  painful  sense  that  all  who  pass  by 
wag  the  head  and  shoot  the  lip  in  bitter  scorn ;  and 
that  the  man  whom  God  has  smitten  is  the  song  of 
the  drunkards  in  their  secret  haunts  or  in  their  pub¬ 
lic  gatherings  to  strengthen  one  another’s  hands  and 
hearts  in  Satan’s  service.  Under  the  pressure  of  these 
complicated  pains,  the  penitent  is  often  ready  to  cry 
out :  For  thy  sake  I  have  borne  reproach :  shame 

hath  covered  my  face.  They  that  sit  in  the  gate 
speak  against  me,  and  I  am  the  song  of  the  drunk¬ 
ards.  Eeproach  hath  broken  my  heart,  and  I  am  full 
of  heaviness.  I  looked  for  some  to  take  pity,  but 
there  was  none,  and  for  comforters,  but  I  found  none.” 
The  dread  of  this  has  stified  the  incipient  convictions 
of  its  thousands  and  its  tens  of  thousands. 

Are  there  none  now  j^resent,  who  have  thus  been 
driven  back,  first  to  silence,  then  to  a^^athy,  and  then 
to  sin  ?  Are  there  none  now  present  who  at  this  very 


372 


SERMONS. 


moment  are  aware  of  sucli  a  struggle  in  their 
hearts  ?  And  are  there  none,  nay  rather,  are  there 
not  very  many,  who  can  now  thank  God  that  they 
have  j)assed  through  this  fiery  ordeal  ? — who  re¬ 
member  when  reproach  had  well  nigh  broken  their 
hearts  too,  until  the  sense  of  man’s  derision  was  ab¬ 
sorbed  in  that  of  their  own  guilt  before  God  ;  until 
they  felt  that  their  excessive  sensibility  to  men’s  re¬ 
proaches  was  a  relic  of  unbroken  pride  ;  until  they 
saw  that  they  were  but  sharers,  and  small  sharers,  in 
the  Lord’s  reproach  ;  and  comparing  their  own  trials 
as  to  this  point  with  his  bufletings  and  cruel  mockings, 
they  were  suddenly  infiamed  with  zeal  to  vindicate 
his  honour  and  forget  their  own,  crying  out,  “  The 
zeal  of  thine  house  hath  eaten  me  up  :  the  reproaches 
of  them  that  reproached  thee  are  fallen  upon  me.” 
Then  were  they  made  to  understand  that  the  best 
cure  for  a  heart  which  pride  has  broken,  is  a  heart 
bruised  and  broken  on  account  of  sin  ;  and  that  while 
this  brokenness  of  heart  is  matter  of  derision  to  the 
worldling,  the  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit : 
a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not 
despise.” 

How  different  from  this  is  the  experience  of  the 
unconverted,  unsaved  sinner,  even  when  his  theoreti¬ 
cal  opinions  of  the  method  of  salvation  are  correct. 
Let  us  su23pose  the  case  of  one  well  instructed  in  the 
doctrines  of  religion  and  unable  to  obliterate  the  deep 
intellectual  impressions  of  his  early  training,  but  a 
stranger  to  the  power  of  religion  in  his  heart.  He 
knows  and  will  acknowledge  that  he  is  a  sinner ;  that 
his  sins  deserve  the  wrath  and  curse  of  God  in  this 


PSALM  51,  17. 


373 


life  and  tlie  life  to  come ;  that  if  saved  at  all  he  must 
he  saved  through  Christ ;  that  no  outward  acts  or 
mental  exercises  of  his  own  can  expiate  the  guilt  of 
sin  ;  that  even  faith,  to  which  eternal  life  is  promised, 
has  no  merit  in  the  sight  of  God,  but  is  a  mere  recep¬ 
tion  of  the  grace  which  brings  salvation.  All  this 
the  man  appears  to  understand,  and  professes  to  be¬ 
lieve  ;  and  under  some  auspicious  influence,  he  re¬ 
solves,  perhaps,  to  act  upon  his  principles,  believing 
as  he  does  that  atonement  has  been  made  ;  and  rely¬ 
ing,  as  he  thinks,  upon  the  merit  of  that  sacrifice,  he 
wonders  that  he  has  not  the  assurance  of  forgiveness, 
joy  and  peace  in  believing,  peace  of  conscience,  peace 
wdth  God  tlirough  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  But  alas, 
he  has  to  learn  that,  though  the  sacrifice  which  pur¬ 
chases  salvation,  has  been  offered  once  for  all  upon 
the  cross,  and  though  he  cannot  cast  an  atom’s  weight 
into  the  scale  of  Christ’s  preponderating  merits,  there 
is  still  a  sacrifice  which  he  must  offer,  and  without 
which  he  can  never  be  accepted ;  a  sacrifice  so  far 
from  being  meritorious  or  in  any  degree  capable  of 
making  expiation  for  the  sins  of  him  who  makes  it, 
that  it  never  can  be  offered  but  by  one  whose  sin  is 
already  covered,  and  to  whom  the  Lord  imputeth  not 
'iniquity.  The  expiatory  altar  of  the  Jewish  ritual 
was  situated  in  the  ofen  court,  and  only  they  who 
passed  by  this  could  draw  near  to  the  altar  of  incense. 
This  secondary  sacrifice  can  be  accepted  from  no 
hands  but  those  which  are  already  reeking  with  the 
blood  of  the  sin  offering.  In  short  the  sinner  knows 
not,  that  although  his  guilt  can  be  removed  by  noth- 
ins:  but  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  his  interest  in  that 


374 


SERMONS. 


atonement  can  be  proved  by  nothing  but  the  sacri- 
hce  of  himself — a  living  sacrifice,  holy  and  accept¬ 
able  unto  God.” 

Here  is  the  rock  on  which  the  Antinomian  of  every 
age  concerning  faith  has  made  shipwreck.  On  the 
pretext  that  the  sacrifice  of  Christ  is  all-sufiicient,  he 
withholds  the  oblation  of  himself  to  God.  Because 
he  has  no  merit,  he  believes  he  has  no  duty,  and 
throws  off  at  once  his  sense  of  a:oodness  and  his  sense 
of  obligation ;  and  because  the  grace  of  God  abounds 
to  sinners,  he  goes  on  in  sin,  that  grace  may  abound. 
But  the  day  is  coming  when  the  wood,  hay,  and  stub¬ 
ble  of  such  hopes  shall  be  consumed  in  the  crackling 
furnace  of  God’s  righteous  retributions  ;  and  even 
they  who  thus  abused  the  doctrine  of  gratuitous  sal¬ 
vation,  and  the  all-sufiiciency  of  Christ’s  atonement, 
shall  see  by  the  glare  of  the  final  confiagration,  that 
the  sacrifice  of  Christ  for  any  individual,  upon  the 
altar  of  atonement,  is  inseparably  connected  with  the 
self-immolation  of  the  man  himself  upon  the  altar  of 
God’s  service  ;  that  no  man  who  rejects  the  one  can 
lay  claim  to  the  other  ;  that  Christ  gives  the  purchase 
of  his  agonies  to  no  one  who  refuses  or  neglects  to 
give  himself  to  God ;  and  that  although  this  self- 
sacrifice  is  not  demanded  as  a  previous  condition  of 
access  to  Christ,  it  does  arise  from  it  as  a  necessary 
consequence,  and  does  therefore  serve  as  an  infallible 
criterion  of  any  person’s  interest  in  Christ’s  atone¬ 
ment. 

But  let  us  suppose  the  sinner  to  be  now  convinced 
of  this  important  truth  ;  to  believe,  that  while  his  only 
hope  of  everlasting  life  is  in  the  sacrifice  of  Christ, 


PSALM  51,  17. 


375 


lie  lias  no  right  to  believe  that  it  was  offered  np  for 
him,  until  he  offers  up  himself,  through  Christ,  to 
God.  Here,  again,  he  is  liable  to  fatal  error.  He 
may  wash  his  hands  in  innocency  and  so  compass  the 
altar  of  God ;  he  may  bind  the  sacrifice  with  cords  to 
the  horns  of  the  altar ;  he  may  offer  it  upon  the  altar 
with  the  most  imposing  rites ;  but  no  sweet  savour 
rises  from  it  to  the  throne  of  God.  The  victim  and 
the  offerer  are  alike  rejected — 

“Foi’  God  abhors  the  sacrifice 

Where  not  the  heart  is  found.” 

The  man  has  brought  his  body  and  his  outward 
w^ealth,  his  time,  his  talents,  and  his  acquisitions, 
but  his  heart  is  left  behind.  This  is  the  error  of  the 
formalist  who,  whether  right  or  wrong  in  his  concep¬ 
tions  of  the  method  of  salvation,  wdiether  trusting  in 
his  own  works  as  an  adjunct  of  Christ’s  sacrifice,  or 
believing  truly  that  the  sacrifice  is  all-sufficient,  but 
that  it  requires  and  indeed  produces  a  self-sacrifice 
on  man’s  part,  fails,  after  all,  to  present  the  right  ob¬ 
lation.  Ah,  how  many  well-instructed  and  ajipar- 
ently  sincere  professors  are  there,  who,  acknowledg¬ 
ing  their  obligation  to  give  all  to  God,  and  professing 
so  to  do,  do  in  fact  withhold  the  very  thing  wdiich 
God  requires,  endeavouring  to  please  him  and  to  satisfy 
their  consciences  by  strict  compliance  with  external 
rules,  without  a  yielding  up  of  the  afiections  of  the 
soul  and  of  the  soul  itself,  which  is  their  reasonable 
service. 

But  the  heart  is  not  only  a  necessary  part  of  the 
required  oblation.  It  is  itself  the  very  thing  required. 


376 


SERMONS. 


It  is  the  heart  which  gives  vitality  and  value  to  the 
rest.  It  is  because  words  and  actions  come  forth  from 
the  heart,  that  they  have  any  value ;  and  without  this, 
they  are  worthless,  nay,  offensive,  as  professing  to  be 
what  they  are  not.  Hot  only  is  the  sinner  bound  to 
sacrifice  himself  upon  the  altar  of  God’s  service,  but 
to  sacrifice  his  heart,  which  is  indeed  himself. 

This  is  a  second  stage  in  the  progress  of  discovery 
to  which  we  may  suppose  the  inquirer’s  mind  to  have 
attained.  He  knows  that  if  Christ  gave  himself  for 
iiim,  he  must  give  his  heart  without  reserve  to  Christ. 
And  here  again  begins  to  show  itself  that  spiritual 
blindness  which  has  been  before  described.  The  man 
consents  to  give  his  heart  to  God,  just  as  it  is;  but 
what  a  heart !  It  must  be  laid  upon  the  altar  whole, 
unbroken  and  unmelted.  He  consents,  perhaps,  that 
it  should  first  be  cleansed.  He  is  wfilling  that  those 
deep,  dark  stains  should  be  washed  out,  and  that 
those  ulcers  should  be  healed  by  the  application  of 
another’s  blood.  This  is  all  that  he  will  offer — all 
he  has  to  give.  But  ah,  what  changes  are  to  pass 
upon  that  heart  before  it  is  accepted.  How  little  does 
he  think  that  it  must  first  be  pierced  and  bruised  and 
broken  !  Or  if  informed  of  this  necessity,  how  quick¬ 
ly  does  his  pride  revolt !  The  natural  man  may  be 
brought  to  acknowledge  his  corruption,  and  to  assent 
in  profession  to  the  only  means  by  which  it  can  be 
purged ;  but  he  never  can  divest  himself  of  his  old 
feelings  with  respect  to  the  firmness  and  the  stoutness 
of  his  heart.  He  may  plead  guilty  to  a  mere  superficial 
depravation,  but  he  openly  or  secretly  exults  in  his 
integrity  and  strength  of  heart.  He  boasts  in  time  of 


PSALM  51,  17. 


377 


trouble  that  his  heart  does  not  fail  him,  and  prides 
himself  upon  his  openness  of  heart.  He  would  rather 
be  thought  to  have  a  heart  of  iron  than  a  heart  of 
wax.  He  lays  his  hand  upon  his  heart  as  if  to  swear 
by  it ;  and,  in  short,  deifies  that  very  heart  which  is 
deceitful  above  all  things  and  desperately  wicked; 
and  with  these  very  feelings,  and  especially  this  con¬ 
fidence  and  pride  in  the  integrity  and  firmness  of  his 
heart,  he  sometimes  draws  near  to  the  altar  of  his 
God,  there  to  ofier  up  his  hard  heart  as  a  sacrifice. 
But  there  he  is  thrust  back,  with  an  assurance  that 
his  stony  heart  must  first  be  broken.  The  result  of 
this  discovery  is  very  different  in  different  cases. 
Some  are  disgusted  by  it,  and  go  back  forever.  Oth¬ 
ers,  towards  whom  God  has  purposes  of  mercy,  are 
subjected  to  a  process  which  results  in  an  effectual 
contrition  of  their  hearts.  However  reluctant  they 
may  feel  at  first  to  undergo  the  change,  the  time  comes 
when  they  not  only  feel  it,  but  rejoice  in  it.  As  the 
same  apostle  who  at  first  said,  Lord,  thou  shalt  never 
wash  my  feet,  said  at  last,  Hot  my  feet  only,  but  also 
my  hands  and  my  head. 

And  thus  they  are  brought  by  the  winding  course 
of  their  experience  to  the  knowledge  and  belief  of 
these  three  propositions  :  1 .  Every  sinner  who  is  saved 
throua:h  the  sacrifice  of  Christ,  must  also  sacrifice 
himself  to  God.  2.  This  self-immolation  must  include 
the  heart,  or  rather  it  is  really  an  oftering  of  the  heart. 
3.  The  heart  thus  offered  must  be  broken  and  con¬ 
trite. 

But  it  is  now  time  to  consider  in  what  this  broken¬ 
ness  of  heart  consists.  The  figure  is  a  common  one 


378 


SERMONS. 


perhaps  in  all  languages.  In  our  own,  it  is  one  of 
those  expressions  which  most  vividly  arouse  the  sym¬ 
pathies,  and  with  which  are  associated  some  of  the 
most  tender  and  affecting  images  that  fancy  can  cre¬ 
ate  or  memory  recall.  Who  is  there  here,  however 
narrow  his  experience,  who  cannot  call  to  mind  some 
memorable  case  of  deep  affliction,  in  which  the  hopes 
of  the  sufferer,  so  far  as  this  life  is  concerned,  were 
not  only  nipped  in  the  bud,  or  blasted  in  the  fiow^er, 
but  suddenly  and  violently  plucked  up  by  the  roots,  in 
which  the  affections  which  had  twined  themselves 
around  earthly  objects,  were  at  once  and  forever  snap¬ 
ped  asunder,  and  the  soul  became  dead  to  the  world, 
not  by  spiritual  crucifixion,  but  by  a  providential 
flash  and  thunderbolt.  It  is  to  such  cases  of  abrupt 
separation  from  the  hopes  and  the  enjoyments  of  the 
present  life,  that  we  familiarly  apply  the  figure  of  a 
broken  heart.  And  the  |)hrase  appears  esj^ecially  ap¬ 
propriate  and  natural,  when  those  who  suffer  are  in 
character  and  circumstances  such  as  to  excite  compas¬ 
sion  unalloyed  with  any  harsh  or  acrimonious  feeling 
— such  as  camiot  or  will  not  seek  a  stoical  relief  in 
moody  silence,  or  in  proud  endurance — such  as  suffer 
without  fault,  or  through  the  fault  of  others — and, 
above  all,  such  as  suffer  without  hope  of  reparation  in 
the  present  life.  It  is  of  such  tliat  w^e  are  wont  to 
speak  as  broken-hearted ;  and  when  the  sufferings  of 
such  extend  to  the  sudden  or  gradual  decay  of  life, 
they  are  said  familiarly  to  die  of  broken  hearts. 

I  refer  to  the  ordinary  usage  of  this  phrase,  in  order 
to  illustrate  its  true  sense  in  application  to  contrition 
and  repentance — not  because  there  is  any  sort  of  sane- 


PSALM  51,  17. 


379 


tity  belonging  to  tlie  sorrow  of  this  world  which  work- 
eth  death.  An  eminent  writer  upon  practical  religion, 
speaks  of  that  compound  of  pride  and  madness,  which 
is  usually  termed  a  broken  heart ;  and  there  can  be 
no  doubt,  that  the  broken  hearts  of  poetry  and  ro¬ 
mantic  fiction  are  too  often  such,  as  if  they  really  ex¬ 
isted,  would  be  followed  in  the  next  life  by  a  broken¬ 
ness  of  spirit,  which  no  balm  would  ever  heal,  and  no 
physician  ever  bind.  Still,  the  very  application  of 
this  metaphor  to  cases  of  profound  and  hopeless  sor¬ 
row,  even  where  it  is  essentially  unholy  in  its  origin 
and  sinful  in  its  exercise,  will  help  us  to  illustrate  its 
true  import  when  applied  to  godly  sorrow,  as  a  sor¬ 
row  which  involves  a  loss  of  hope  and  a  privation  of 
enjoyments  and  dependences  long  fondly  cherished. 
While  the  heart  remains  unbroken  on  account  of  sin, 
there  are  certain  prospects  upon  which  the  eye  is 
prone  to  fasten  and  to  feed — the  illusive  forms  of  fu¬ 
ture  happiness  are  seen  through  certain  vistas  and  in 
certain  quarters  only.  To  these  points,  when  the  mind 
conceives  the  thought  of  being  happy,  it  instinctively 
reverts.  But  when  the  bruising  and  the  breaking 
process  has  begun,  these  vistas  are  obstructed,  and 
these  prospects  fade  away,  and  when  the  mind  in¬ 
stinctively  reverts  to  its  accustomed  points  of  joyful 
expectation,  they  are  veiled  in  darkness.  Thus  its 
fixed  associations  are  dissolved,  its  ancient  hopes  un¬ 
settled,  and  its  ancient  fears  give  place  to  new  ones  ; 
so  that,  in  tlie  confusion  of  its  passions  and  afiections, 
the  heart  may  be  described  as  being  broken  in  pieces. 

But  the  change  which  is  properly  and  specially 
denoted  by  this  figure,  is  the  change  from  insensibility 


380 


SERMONS. 


find  apathy  to  a  directly  opposite  condition — to  a  keen 
susceptibility  of  shame  and  grief.  It  is  ecpially  amaz¬ 
ing  to  behold  how  much  the  heart  can  bear,  while  yet 
unbroken,  and  how  little  is  enough  to  make  it  quiver 
with  emotion,  when  the  hammer  has  descended,  and 
the  rock  is  dashed  in  pieces.  If  the  secrets  of  two 
hearts  could  be  disclosed  at  the  same  moment — for 
example,  in  the  hearing  of  a  single  sermon — wo  should 
see  the  one  receiving,  with  a  calmness  too  unnatural  to 
be  called  philosophical,  the  most  momentous  doc¬ 
trines,  while  the  other,  by  the  same  enunciation  of  the 
same  things,  is  not  only  agitated  but  convulsed.  The 
same  wind  which  excites  the  living  waters  of  Gennes- 
aret  into  a  storm,  is  said  to  leave  no  trace  of  its  effect 
upon  the  smooth  and  silent  waters  of  Asphaltites,  the 
sea  of  death.  But  the  difference  of  feeling  in  the 
cases  now  supposed,  however  great,  can  never  be  dis¬ 
tinctly  seen  by  others. 

There  is  a  case,  however,  which  presents  the  con¬ 
trast,  at  successive  turns  indeed,  but  with  a  vivid 
clearness  to  the  eye  of  an  observer.  I  mean  when 
the  observer  is  himself  the  subject  of  both  states  of  feel¬ 
ing  ;  when  he  looks  back  with  amazement  to  the  time 
when  he  could  hear  with  cool  indifference,  the  same 
things  which  now  freeze  his  blood,  or  make  it  boil. 
Has  it  never  happened  in  your  experience,  that  you 
have  been  apprised  of  some  appalling  danger  after  it 
was  past ;  of  your  having  just  before  been  standing 
on  a  spot  where  the  motion  of  a  limb  in  one  direction 
would  have  been  your  death,  a  death  perhaps  of  ag¬ 
gravated  horror?  and  when  thus  apprized  of  your 
deliverance,  do  you  not  remember  the  strange  thrill 


PSALM  51,  17. 


381 


of  horror  which  at  once  shot  through  yon,  suspending 
for  a  time  yonr  sense  of  safety,  and  recalling  the  sen¬ 
sations  proper  to  yonr  former  state  ?  This  may  serve 
to  illustrate  very  faintly  the  retrospective  feelings  of 
the  simier,  when  his  heart  is  broken,  in  relation  to 
his  exercises  while  it  was  yet  whole.  But  with  this 
difference,  that  his  amazement  has  respect  not  only 
to  the  awful  danger  which  he  did  not  feel  before,  hut 
to  the  turpitude  and  guilt  of  sin  to  which  he  was  insen¬ 
sible,  and  his  own  base  ingratitude  to  God  at  whoso 
feet  he  now  lies  subdued  and  humbled.  It  is  in  sor¬ 
row  for  his  sins,  as  sins  against  a  God  of  justice  and 
of  mercy,  that  the  sinner’s  heart  is  said  to  be  broken, 
not  merely  softened  but  broken  in  pieces  and  reduced 
to  powder,  as  the  word  translated  contrite  really  de¬ 
notes.  True  contrition  then  includes  sensibility  of 
conscience  and  the  tenderer  affections,  with  a  just 
apprehension  of  the  evil  of  sin,  not  only  as  considered 
in  its  own  nature,  but  also  as  inliereut  in  the  penitent 
liimself.  Upon  spiritual  brokenness  of  heart  as  thus 
explained,  I  invite  your  attention  to  a  few  remarks, 
some  of  Avhich  have  been  implied  in  what  has  been 
already  said. 

The  first  remark  is,  that  the  broken  spirit  and  the 
contrite  heart  are  really  a  sacrifice,  a  sacrifice  to  God. 
I  recur  to  this  idea,  on  account  of  the  opinion  which 
extensively  prevails  among  the  hearers  of  the  gospel, 
and  particularly  those  who  are  not  thoroughly  in- 
sructed  in  the  doctrines  of  the  Bible,  that  contrition 
is  a  price  which  we  must  pay  for  our  salvation,  the 
death  of  Christ  being  either  excluded  altogether,  or 
admitted  merely  to  give  weight  and  value  to  the  soi^ 


382 


SERMONS. 


rows  of  the  penitent.  How  strange  it  is  that  one 
opinion  which  men  never  think  of  acting  on  in  com¬ 
mon  life  should  be  maintained  so  seriously  and  with 
such  tenacity  in  spiritual  matters.  He  who  should 
undertake  to  cancel  any  civil  obligation  in  like  man¬ 
ner,  to  discharge  his  private  debts  or  j)ay  the  penalty 
of  violated  laws  by  mere  regret  that  he  had  broken 
or  contracted  them,  would  be  regarded  either  as  dis¬ 
honest  or  a  fool.  And  yet  there  are  wise  and  honest 
men,  wise  and  honest  as  to  this  world’s  matters,  who 
regard  repentance  as  an  ample  compensation  for  their 
worst  transgressions,  and  who  fasten  witli  avidity  on 
every  phrase  which  seems  to  favour  that  opinion. 
Such  a  phrase  is  that  before  us,  which  describes  the 
broken  spirit  as  a  sacrifice. 

Some  may  be  ready  to  inquire,  if  this  does  not 
mean  a  satisfaction  to  God’s  justice,  what  else  can  it 
mean  ?  It  means,  as  we  have  seen,  a  consecration  of 
the  heart  to  God,  not  in  its  natural  obdurate  state,  but 
broken  and  contrite  ;  a  consecration  which  can  never 
go  before  the  ajiplication  of  Christ’s  blood  and  the  re¬ 
mission  of  our  sins,  but  will  invariably  follow  it. 
They  love  much  to  whom  much  is  forgiven,  not  be¬ 
cause  forgiveness  is  the  purchase  of  their  love,  but 
because  their  love  is  the  effect  of  their  forgiveness 
So  likewise  all  who  are  redeemed  will  offer  up  a 
broken  heart  as  a  sacrifice,  not  because  their  broken¬ 
ness  of  heart  redeems  them,  but  because  whenever 
Christ  saves  a  sinner,  he  invariably  breaks  his  heart. 
The  same  almighty  grace  which  sets  him  free  from  the 
dominion  of  the  law,  sets  him  likewise  free  from  the 
obduracy  of  nature.  And  as  these  two  deliverances 


PSALM  51,  ir. 


383 


always  go  together,  there  can  he  no  assnrance  of  the 
one  without  a  satisfactory  assurance  of  the  other. 
We  have  no  right  to  believe  that  Christ  has  died  for 
us,  unless  we  are  ready  and  resolved  to  live  for  him. 
Let  us  maintain  our  hold  upon  both  doctrines,  and 
remembering  that  the  only  efficacious  sacrifice  for  sin 
is  that  of  Christ,  at  the  same  time  remember  that 
“  the  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit.’’ 

My  second  observation  is,  that  this  is  an  offering 
which  God  does  not  despise.  In  the  language  of  the 
text,  it  would  appear  to  be  implied  that  God  might 
well  have  been  expected  to  despise  it.  And  is  this 
not  true  ?  Are  tliese  worthless,  wicked,  and  deceitful 
hearts  a  fit  oblation  for  God’s  altar  ?  There  is  wonder 
in  the  Psalmist’s  exclamation,  God  despises  and  re¬ 
jects  the  costly  offerings  of  princes  :  gold  and  silver, 
pomp  and  pageantry,  he  spurns :  thou  despisest  all 
that  wealth  or  pride  can  offer  at  thy  footstool,  but  a 
broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not 
despise.”  It  is  also  an  expression  of  his  thankfulness. 
The  broken  heart  itself  is  thy  gift,  tliou  alone  canst 
break  it ;  and  having  thus  bestowed  it,  thou  art 
pleased  to  accept  of  it  again  at  our  hands ;  thou  re- 
cpiirest  nothing  but  a  broken  contrite  heart ;  “  a 
broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  de¬ 
spise.”  At  the  same  time  there  is  humble  and  rejoic¬ 
ing  confidence.  Since  thou  art  pleased  to  ask  nothing 
but  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  I  despair  no 
longer ;  only  break  my  hard  heart  more  completely 
by  the  sense  of  thy  forgiving  mercy,  and  I  ask  no 
more,  for  I  can  then  come  before  thee  with  a  broken 


384 


SEKMONS. 


and  a  contrite  lieart  forever,  and  “  a  broken  and  a 
contrite  heart,  O  God,  tlion  wilt  not  despise.” 

In  the  third  place,  I  remark  that  though  a  holy 
and  a  righteous  God  accepts  the  sacrifice,  ungodly 
men  despise  it.  It  is  better  to  fall  into  the  hands  of 
God  than  into  the  hands  of  man.  The  chastisements 
of  God  are  tender  mercies  to  his  people,  but  the  ten¬ 
der  mercies  of  the  wicked  are  cruel.  The  licentious, 
proud,  and  selfish  worldling,  who  believes  that  he 
does  honour  to  God’s  word  by  hearing  it,  and  whose 
religion  is  a  condescending  patronage  of  Christ  and 
his  salvation,  hates  and  scorns  a  broken  spirit  and  a 
contrite  heart  as  heartily  and  proudly  as  the  evil  one 
himself.  Let  the  humble  Christian  be  prepared  for 
the  contempt  of  those  whose  hearts  were  never 
broken,  and  amidst  the  proud  man’s  contumely,” 
let  him  lift  his  heart  to  heaven  and  breathe  the 
Psalmist’s  confident  assurance,  a  broken  and  a  con¬ 
trite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not  despise.” 

Again,  we  may  remark  that  in  the  church  itself, 
there  may  be  those  who,  while  they  wear  the  yoke  of 
Christ,  appear  impatient  of  its  pressure ;  these  are 
the  worshippers  of  manly  Cliristianity,  who  love  re¬ 
ligion  in  its  fierce,  and  proud,  and  insolent  disguises, 
but  disdain  it  in  its  unadorned  simplicity  and  meek¬ 
ness.  How  far  such  a  spirit  is  compatible  with  bro¬ 
kenness  of  heart  and  deep  contrition,  let  those  who 
cherish  it  determine  for  themselves  by  comparing 
their  own  feelings  and  habitual  dispositions  with  the 
language  of  the  Psalmist,  Tlie  sacrifices  of  God  are 
a  broken  spirit:  a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O 
God,  thou  wilt  not  despise.” 


PSALM  51,  17. 


385 


In  conclusion,  tliere  are  no  doubt  many  wlio  now 
bear  me,  that  are  perfectly  nnconscions  of  the  slight¬ 
est  feeling  which  conld  be,  without  absurdity,  de¬ 
scribed  as  a  broken  spirit  and  a  contrite  heart.  To 
such  the  subject  is  and  must  be  unintelligible,  and 
they  are  perhaps  disposed  in  secret  to  rejoice  that  it 
is  so.  Believing  as  they  do  that  the  experience  of 
this  change  would  deprive  them  of  the  only  pleasures 
which  they  are  now  capable  of  relishing,  they  may 
perhaps  console  themselves  by  thinking  that  where 
ignorance  is  bliss,  ’tis  folly  to  be  wise.’’  It  is  not  my 
design,  by  a  vain  reiteration,  to  attempt  to  change 
your  present  feelings  in  relation  to  this  matter.  But 
I  wish,  before  I  close,  to  guard  your  minds  if  possible 
against  a  very  natural  illusion,  with  respect  to  the 
future. 

The  unbroken  heart  is  always  loth  to  think  that 
it  can  ever  be  subdued.  As  it  invariably  glories  in 
its  strength,  it  cannot  bear  the  thought  of  losing  it. 
Some  in  the  madness  of  their  pride  resolve  that  they 
will  rather  lose  eternal  life,  than  gain  it  by  humiliat¬ 
ing  weaknesses.  Others,  unwilling  to  proceed  so  far, 
merely  dismiss  the  subject  from  their  thoughts,  while 
a  third  class  persuade  themselves  that  though  they 
must  repent  and  be  converted,  they  may  certainly  do 
this  without  a  loss  of  native  dignity,  or  the  indulgence 
of  unmanly  weakness.  And  accordingly  their  pur¬ 
pose  is  to  keep  a  good  heart  even  in  repenting,  and  to 
quit  themselves  like  men  in  the  salvation  of  their 
souls.  The  eye  of  my  imagination  rests  upon  one 
who  would  rather  be  detected  in  a  crime,  than  in  the 
shedding  of  a  tear  for  crimes  already  perpetrated ; 

VOL.  II. — 17 


386 


SERMONS. 


one  wlio  would  rather  break  than  bend ;  one  wbo 
would  ratber  be  broken  by  God’s  wratb  than  by  bis 
mercy  ;  one,  in  whose  nature  this  satanic  pride  is  so 
profoundly  fixed,  that  be  is  utterly  unable  to  conceive 
of  it  as  possible  that  bis  heart  ever  can  be  broken 
either  by  misfortune  or  repentance. 

The  scene  is  changed,  and  I  behold  that  same 
man  still  a  bearer  of  the  gospel,  but  bis  countenance 
is  altered.  He  still  maintains  a  posture  of  resistance, 
but  bis  eye  is  restless  and  bis  brow  contracted,  and  I 
read  in  bis  vain  efforts  to  suppress  and  bide  bis  feel¬ 
ings,  that  the  enemy  be  once  despised  lias  found  bis 
way  into  the  fortress  of  bis  heart.  There  is  commo¬ 
tion  there.  There  is  a  deadly  struggle  between  flesh 
and  spirit.  With  desperate  strength  the  strong  man 
guards  bis  palace,  but  a  stronger  than  he  is  there. 
Tie  would  ratber  die  than  yield  to  bis  convictions. 
His  soul  chooses  strangling  ratber  than  life.  He  re¬ 
flects  with  horror  on  the  scorn  and  contumely  which 
await  bis  fall,  and  in  the  anguish  of  that  fear,  be 
summons  every  motive  and  musters  all  bis  strength 
to  bold  united  bis  already  bursting  heart ;  but  in  the 
crisis  of  bis  last  convulsive  effort  it  is  broken,  it  is 
broken.  The  most  incredible  of  all  impossibilities  is 
realized.  The  stony  heart  is  broken,  and  the  man 
wbo  feared  and  bated  it  in  prospect,  now  rejoices  in 
it.  The  tears  which  once  be  would  ratber  die  than 
shed,  flow  freely.  The  man  is  willing  in  the  day  of 
God’s  power,  and  as  be  looks  up  at  the  cross  beneath 
which  bis  obdurate  heart  was  broken,  and  beholds  the 
bleeding  sacrifice  by  which  bis  life  was  purchased,  be 
throws  as  it  were  the  bruised  fragments  of  bis  heart 


PSALM  51,  17. 


387 


at  tlie  Redeemer’s  feet,  beneath  the  droppings  of  his 
blood,  and  says  ‘‘  lie  there  forever,”  while  from  every 
wound  of  him  who  hangs  upon  the  cross  a  voice  re¬ 
sponds  :  “  The  sacrifices  of  God  are  a  broken  spirit : 
a  broken  and  a  contrite  heart,  O  God,  thou  wilt  not 
despise.” 

Of  such,  some  no  doubt  are  saved,  saved  perhaps 
as  by  fire.  Would  to  God,  that  this  might  be  the  end 
of  all  who  now  despise  the  gospel,  and  resolve  that 
no  misfortune,  and  no  spiritual  infiuence  shall  ever 
break  their  hearts.  Well  might  the  contrite  and  the 
broken-hearted  Christian  bear  the  proud  man’s  con¬ 
tumely  ”  and  the  scoffer’s  sneer,  if  by  such  endurance 
he  could  purchase  the  consolatory  hope  that  his  de- 
spisers  should  be  one  day  broken-hearted  like  himself. 
But,  alas,  with  Scripture  and  with  history  before  us, 
where  shall  we  take  refuge  from  the  fear,  that  to  many 
who  now  make  a  mock  of  sin  and  of  repentance,  and 
who  trample  on  the  broken  heart,  the  last  words  of 
the  Saviour,  as  he  points  to  his  despised  ones  will  be, 
Behold,  ye  despisers,  and  wonder  and  perish  !  ” 

It  is  matter  of  thankfulness  that  we  who  preach 
the  gospel,  are  not  authorized  to  read  the  future  his¬ 
tory  of  those  who  now  reject  salvation,  and  that  God 
has  invested  tins  distressing  subject  with  a  shroud  of 
intermingled  hope  and  fear.  But  notwithstanding 
this  compassionate  reserve,  it  may  be  said  without 
presumption,  that  among  those  who  are  now  disposed 
to  laugh  at  the  idea  of  a  broken  heart,  there  are  some 
who,  though  they  never  shall  experience  the  power  of 
subduing  grace,  shall  yet  know  by  experience  what 
it  is  to  be  heart-broken.  Methinks  I  see  one  of  this 


888 


SERMONS. 


class  also,  at  anotlier  time,  and  in  anotlier  place.  1 
see  liim  snrronnded  by  tlie  comforts,  and  tlie  liononrs, 
and  the  pleasures  of  the  world.  I  see  him  still  a  cold, 
fastidious  hearer  of  the  gospel.  I  see  him  regarding 
with  a  prond  contempt  the  penitent  contrition  of  his 
fellow-sinner.  I  see  him  laugh  in  scorn  at  the  idea  of 
his  own  iieart  being  broken.  I  see  him  arm  himself 
with  stoical  philosophy,  with  heathen  fortitude,  with 
hellish  pride.  Ent  while  I  see  him  watchful  upon 
one  side,  I  behold  his  enemy  approaching  on  another. 
While  he  surrounds  the  garden  of  his  happiness  with 
walls  or  hedges  to  repel  wild  beasts,  I  see  the  flower 
on  his  favourite  vine  begin  to  droop,  and  sicken  till 
it  drops  into  the  earth  a  withered  weed.  I  see  the 
vine  itself  decaying  in  its  branches  and  its  stock,  until 
the  root  alone  is  left.  I  see  the  soul  of  the  prond  sin¬ 
ner  touched  with  exquisite  exactness  in  its  most  un¬ 
guarded  and  most  vulnerable  points.  I  see  the 
appetite  for  earthly  pleasure  sicken  and  so  die,” 
with  nothing  better  to  succeed  it.  I  see  the  man  as 
he  looks  back  upon  the  wilderness  and  forward  to  the 
ocean,  as  he  turns  with  a  sore  conscience  from  the 
trackless  sands,  gaze  with  anxious  apprehension  on 
the  trackless  waters.  His  strength  is  hnngerbitten,” 
and  his  courage  spent.  Is  this  the  man  who  braved 
misfortune,  and  defled  conviction  ?  Is  it  he  who 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  a  broken  heart,  and  vowed  that 
his  heart  never  could  be  broken  ?  Is  it  he  who  even 
now  has  only  strength  enough  to  hide,  and  that  at 
the  expense  of  most  excruciating  torments,  the  ap¬ 
proaching  fracture  of  his  own  proud  spirit,  for  a  few 
more  days  of  unimaginable  anguish,  till  in  the  very 


PSALM  51,  17. 


389 


article  of  cleatli,  Ms  heart  and  flesh  give  way  to¬ 
gether,  and  he  who  boasted  of  a  whole  heart  while  he 
lived,  dies  of  a  broken  heart  at  last.  Ah,  my  hearers, 
yon  may  think  it  a  mere  fiction  of  romance  that  men 
slionld  die  of  broken  hearts.  But  when  the  records  of 
God’s  righteous  retributions  are  unfolded,  some  of  us 
may  see  that  this  and  that  man  whose  decease  was  here 
ascribed  to  accident  or  bodily  disease,  were  the  vic¬ 
tims  of  an  obstinate,  unbending  spirit,  and  of  a 
wounded,  ulcerated  conscience,  were  consumed  by 
secret  eflbrts  to  suppress  conviction,  and  at  last,  after 
all  their  proud  derision  and  bravado,  died  of  broken 
hearts.  Is  it  then  the  case,  you  may  be  ready  to  in¬ 
quire,  that  they  who  pass  through  life,  without  ex¬ 
perience  of  sorrow,  and  devoid  of  sensibility ;  who 
steep  themselves  in  selfish  and  ignoble  pleasures,  till 
their  souls  are  callous  ;  is  it  true  that  these  alone  are 
to  escape  the  sad  experience  of  a  broken  heart  ? 

My  hearers,  there  are  two  very  common  errors  in 
relation  to  the  future  state  of  those  who  die  impeni¬ 
tent.  The  one  is  the  idea,  that  because  the  tree  must  lie 
just  as  it  falls,  because  he  who  is  filthy  must  be  filthy 
still ;  men  can  deprive  themselves  in  some  degree  of 
that  susceptibility  of  pain  which  is  essential  to  the 
misery  of  hell.  Hence  there  have  been  men  who,  as 
their  death  approached,  chose  to  stupefy  their  minds 
with  intoxicating  liquors,  partly  no  doubt  for  the 
purpose  of  excluding  all  reflection  on  the  future  ; 
partly  from  unbelief  of  any  future  state,  but  in  many 
cases,  I  have  no  doubt  also,  in  the  hope  that  their 
stupefied  and  brutal  apathy  would  still  continue  in  the 
other  world.  Think  of  this  vain  attempt  to  quench 


390 


SERMONS. 


tlie  flames  of  Topliet  with  intoxicating  liquors,  or 
witli  any  otlier  stupefying  drug,  and  then  imagine,  if 
yon  can,  the  awaking  of  that  spirit  after  death.  The 
only  gift  of  God  to  the  lost  sinner  is  tl^e  gift  of  sensi¬ 
bility  nnknown  before  :  a  gift  which  shall  overwhelm 
with  shrinking  shame,  the  man,  the  woman,  to  whom 
shame  is  now  a  stranger ;  agitate  with  terror  those 
who  now  are  brave,  and  sting  with  keen  remorse  the 
consciences  of  those  whose  hearts  are  never  visited  in 
this  life  by  the  dread  of  wrath,  or  by  the  conscious¬ 
ness  of  guilt.  Whatever  other  changes  may  await  ns, 
be  assured,  my  hearers,  that  the  day  is  coming  when 
the  most  unfeeling  shall  be  made  to  feel. 


James  1,  2-8. — My  brethren,  count  it  all  joy  when  ye  fall  into 
divers  temptations ;  knowing  this,  that  the  trying  of  your  faith  work- 
eth  patience.  But  let  patience  have  her  perfect  work,  that  ye  may 
be  perfect  and  entire,  wanting  nothing.  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom, 
let  him  ask  of  God,  that  giveth  to  all  men  liberally,  and  upbraideth 
not ;  and  it  shall  be  given  him.  But  let  him  ask  in  faith,  nothing 
wavering :  for  he  that  wavereth  is  like  a  wave  of  the  sea  driven  with 
the  wind  and  tossed.  For  let  not  that  man  think  that  he  shall  receive 
any  thing  of  the  Lord.  A  double-minded  man  is  unstable  in  all  his 
ways. 

The  questions  wMcli  liave  been  raised  in  reference 
to  the  author  of  this  epistle,  however  interesting  they 
may  be  to  the  historical  critic,  are  of  very  little  exe- 
getical  importance.  Whether  it  be  the  work  of  James 
the  son  of  Zebedee,  as  the  old  Syriac  translators,  and 
perhaps  some  others  thought,  or  of  James  the  son  of 
Alpheus,  which  has  been  the  prevalent  opinion  in  all 
ages  of  the  church,  or  James  the  brother  of  the  Lord, 
not  a  member  of  the  apostolic  body,  but  the  bishop 
or  pastor  of  the  church  at  Jerusalem,  of  whom  con¬ 
temporary  history  relates  tliat  he  was  called  the  Just 
or  Righteous,  and  whose  death,  at  the  hands  of  the 
infuriated  Zealots,  is  described  by  the  same  author  as 
an  immediate  cause  or  occasion  of  the  Fall  of  Jeru- 


392 


SERMONS. 


Salem  ;  these  are  alternative  hypotheses,  our  choice  of 
which  cannot  materially  affect  onr  view  of  the  design 
and  meaning  of  the  book  itself. 

The  doubts  respecting  its  canonical  authority 
among  tlie  ancients,  as  in  the  case  of  the  Epistle  to 
the  Hebrews,  sprang  from  its  having  been  addressed 
to  Jews  or  Jev/ish  Christians,  and  not  made  known 
to  the  Gentile  churches  until  after  some  time  had 
elapsed.  The  like  doubts,  entertained  by  Luther  and 
some  other  modern  writers,  have  been  founded  on  a 
supposed  contrariety  between  the  teachings  of  James 
and  Paul,  as  to  the  fundamental  doctrine  of  justifica¬ 
tion.  The  little  currency  which  this  opinion  has  ob¬ 
tained  among  believing  readers  and  interpreters  shows 
that  its  supposed  ground  is  imaginary,  and  that  there 
is  no  reason  even  for  assuming  two  divergent  types  of 
Christian  doctrine,  an  ingenious  figment  which  has 
been  carried  to  extremes  by  certain  German  theo¬ 
logians  of  our  own  day.  A  key  to  all  the  difficulties 
of  the  case  is  furnished  by  the  simple  supposition  that 
the  epistle  presupposes  what  is  taught  in  other  ^^mds 
of  the  Hew  Testament,  and  is  intended,  not  to  com¬ 
municate  the  fundamental  truths  of  Christianity,  but 
to  correct  abuses  of  them  which  had  already  shown 
themselves,  perhaps  especially  in  certain  portions  of 
the  church  and  under  certain  circumstances,  among 
which  one  was  probably  the  influence  of  persecution, 
and  the  peculiar  trials  and  temptations  which  it 
brought  along  with  it,  and  in  which  the  apostle  here 
exhorts  his  readers  to  rejoice,  just  as  Paul,  in  still 
more  general  terms,  exhorts  us  to  rejoice  always.” 

This  positive  injunction  of  the  Christian  ethics 


JAMES  1,  2-8. 


393 


may  seem  too  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  be  obeyed. 
And  even  if  tlie  natural  repugnance  to  suffering 
can  be  so  far  vanquisbed  as  to  make  distress  itself  a 
subject  and  occasion  of  rejoicing,  tbe  moral  sense  still 
slirinks  from  wliat  is  here  commanded,  to  rejoice  in 
temptation.  The  paradox  is  not  to  be  removed  by 
violently  clianging  tlie  established  meaning  of  the 
word,  which  never  means  affliction  simply,  but  in 
every  case  conveys  the  idea  of  a  moral  trial,  or  a  test 
of  character.  The  petition  which  our  Lord  himself 
prescribes,  Lead  us  not  into  temptation,”  cannot  be 
a  mere  deprecation  of  adversity,  as  something  painful. 
Had  not  popular  usage  lowered  the  meaning  of  our 
own  word  “  trial  ”  as  applied  to  providential  changes, 
so  that  it  now  expresses  little  more  than  pain  or  pri¬ 
vation,  it  would  correspond  exactly  to  the  Greek 
term  here  used,  and  applied  to  sulferings  or  afflictions, 
]iot  as  such,  or  as  mere  chastisements,  or  means  of 
grace,  but  as  tests  or  touchstones  of  the  sufferer’s  dis¬ 
positions  and  affections,  of  his  faith,  and  patience, 
and  obedience,  to  which  the  term  is  as  legitimately 
applicable  as  it  is  to  those  direct  solicitations  to  evil 
wliich  are  commonly  denoted  by  the  word  “  tempta¬ 
tion.” 

But  oven  this  word  tem2:)tation  strictly  denotes 
trial,  i.  <?.,  moral  trial,  trial  of  character,  and  merely 
comprehends  within  it  that  specific  mode  of  trial 
which  consists  in  direct  attempts  to  make  men  sin, 
by  exciting  their  sinful  dispositions,  setting  before 
them  the  unlawful  object,  and  affording  them  the 
means  and  opportunity  of  actual  transgression.  All 
this,  I  say,  which  is  the  ordinary  meaning  of  the  word 
voi.  II. — 


394 


SERMONS. 


“  temptation,”  is  but  one  form — tliougli  undoubtedly 
tlie  worst  form — of  that  whole  testing  process  wliicli  the 
term  in  G-reek  as  well  as  Englisli  primarily  signifies. 
The  question  whether  it  is  here  used  in  its  narrower 
or  wider  sense  may  be  determined  by  the  context, 
wliere  the  fruit  of  sanctified  temptation  is  described 
as  patience,  patient  endurance.  But  the  fruit  and 
remedy  of  temptation  in  the  ordinary  sense  is  not  the 
habit  of  endurance  but  of  strong  resistance.  To  be 
patient  under  the  suggestions  of  the  devil,  the  seduc¬ 
tions  of  the  world,  and  the  corruptions  of  our  own 
heart,  would  imply  acquiescence,  not  to  say  compla¬ 
cency  in  evil.  A  temptation,  to  which  patience  is 
the  proper  antidote,  must  be  specifically  a  temptation 
to  impatience,  insubordination,  a  rebellious  and  re¬ 
pining  temper,  and  these  are  just  the  sinful  disposi¬ 
tions  and  affections  to  which  we  are  tempted  by  a 
state  of  suffering.  We  must  therefore  understand 
the  words  as  having  reference  to  those  providential 
trials  of  men’s  faith  and  patience  in  which  they  are 
rather  passive  than  active,  and  under  wdiich  their  ap- 
23ropriate  duty  is  not  so  much  resistance  as  submis¬ 
sion.  But  even  these  trials  and  temptations  are  not 
to  be  sought  for  or  solicited.  It  is  not  in  voluntary, 
wilful  subjection  to  them  through  our  own  fault,  or 
in  the  indulgence  of  our  own  perverse  ambition  to  be 
martyrs  or  confessors,  that  we  are  encouraged  or  com¬ 
manded  to  rejoice,  but  when  we  fall  into  ”  them  or 
among  them,  so  as  to  be  quite  encompassed  and  en¬ 
veloped  by  them,  as  the  traveller  from  Jerusalem  to 
Jericho,  in  the  parable  of  the  good  Samaritan,  “fell 
among”  thieves  or  robbers  ;  the  original  expression 


JAMES  1,  2-S. 


395 


being  just  the  same  in  either  case,  and  in  the  only 
other  place  where  it  occurs,  (Acts  2T,  41,)  although 
applied  to  a  kind  of  trial  altogether  different,  the 
running  of  a  ship  aground,  it  still  suggests  the  same 
idea  of  unstudied,  unintentional,  unforeseen  emergen¬ 
cies,  and  therefore  makes  it  still  more  certain  that  the 
trials  in  which  we  are  commanded  to  rejoice  are  not 
those  into  which  we  presumptuously  rush,  hut  those 
into  which  we  unintentionally  fall,  and  which,  for 
that  very  reason,  are  better  suited  to  make  proof  of 
our  obedience  to  the  will  of  God,  and  of  our  trust  in 
his  pov/er  and  willingness  to  keep  us.  The  difficulty 
of  complying  with  this  general  injunction  may  appear 
to  be  enhanced  by  the  variety  of  outward  forms  and 
circumstances  under  which  the  work  of  providential 
trial  may  be  carried  on,  including  all  the  numberless 
and  nameless  “  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to.” 

How  can  all  these  he  reduced  to  one  description, 
or  provided  for  by  one  prescription  ?  Though  it  may 
be  rational  and  right,  and  therefore  must  be  pos¬ 
sible,  if  not  alv/ays  easy,  to  rejoice  in  one  variety  of 
such  temptations,  it  does  not  follow  necessarily  that 
it  is  possible  or  right  in  all.  But  this  objection  or 
misgiving  as  to  the  extent  of  the  apostle’s  requisition, 
is  anticipated  and  precluded  by  himself  in  the  express 
use  of  the  epithet  “  divers,”  manifold,  multiform,  di¬ 
versified,  the  sensible  quality  originally  signified  be¬ 
ing  that  of  variety  in  colours,  particoloured,  piebald, 
motley,  and  therefore  well  adapted,  by  a  natural  as¬ 
sociation,  to  express  in  a  lively  manner  the  idea  of 
diversity  in  general,  as  if  he  had  said — however  varied 
the  comj)lexion  of  the  trials  into  which  you  fall,  or  by 


396 


SERMONS. 


wliicli  you  are  encompassed,  I  tell  you  still  to  “  count 
it  joy  ”  and  all  joy,”  not  by  a  figure  of  speecli  or 
paradoxical  abuse  of  language;  so  that,  according  to 
the  famous  saying  of  a  great  diplomatist,  it  serves  to 
conceal  thought  rather  than  express  it,  saying  one 
thing  and  meaning  another  ;  not  in  a  limited  degree, 
as  implying  that  a  little  joy  may  possibly  be  squeezed 
out  of  the  heart  surcharged  with  grief ;  not  with  a 
stoical  apathy,  affecting  to  confound  or  identify  pain 
and  pleasure,  joy  and  sorrow  ;  but  in  the  true  sense, 
and  the  full  sense,  and  the  Christian  sense  of  the  ex¬ 
pression,  let  us  count  our  providential  trials  “  all  joy,” 
nothing  but  joy,  as  Paul  tells  the  Ephesians,  Christ 
has  abounded  towards  us  “  in  all  wisdom  and  pru¬ 
dence  ;  ”  and  exhorts  them  to  walk  worthy  of  their 
vocation  “  with  all  lovdiness  and  meekness,”  (Eph.  1, 
8  ;  4,  2,)  all  kinds  and  all  degrees  of  wisdom  in  the 
one  case,  and  of  meekness  in  the  other.  So  here,  it 
is  not  the  mere  name,  or  the  mere  pretence,  or  some 
infinitesimal  degree  of  joy,  that  believers  under  trial 
are  to  exercise,  but  all  joy  ”  as  opposed  to  none,  and 
to  too  little,  and  to  every  kind  of  counterfeit.  So  far 
from  grieving  or  repining  when  you  fall  into  divers 
trials,  count  it  all  joy.”  But  as  we  know,  both  from 
Scripture  and  experience,  that  “  no  chastening  for 
the  j^TCsent  seemeth  to  be  joyous,  but  grievous,  and 
that  afterward  {varepov)  it  yield  eth  the  peaceable  fruit 
of  righteousness  to  them  which  are  exercised  thereby,” 
(Heb.  12,  11,)  it  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose  that 
the  joy  here  required  is  not  a  joy  to  be  experienced 
in  the  very  article  or  stress  of  the  temptation,  but 
a  joy  to  be  engendered  by  a  believing,  grateful  re- 


JAMES  1,  2-S. 


397 


trospection  of  tlie  trial  after  it  is  past,  or  at  least,  after 
the  first  shock  is  over,  and  the  sonl  is  able  to  refiect 
upon  it.  This  is  perfectly  consistent  with  the  form 
of  expression  (orav  nrepLireai^Te^  which  might  even  he 
translated  to  mean  “  when  ”  or  after,”  “  ye  have 
fallen  into  divers  trials,”  so  as,  at  least,  to  sug¬ 
gest  the  idea,  that  this  is  not  a  joy  to  he  indnlged  in 
prospect  of  the  trial  or  temptation,  which  might  too 
easily  degenerate  into  a  proud,  presnmptnons,  self- 
confident  defiance,  or  even  a  fanatical  solicitation  of 
sncli  trials,  which  is  something  very  different  from 
the  linmhle,  grateful  joy  of  having  been  subjected  to 
them  for  a  wise  and  gracions  purpose,  and  brought 
throngh  them,  and  then  out  of  them  in  safety. 

This  precise  determination  of  the  time  at  wliich  the 
joy  is  to  be  exercised,  as  not  the  time  of  actual  en¬ 
durance,  much  less  that  of  previous  expectation,  but 
rather  that  of  subsequent  reflection — I  mean  subse¬ 
quent,  if  not  to  the  whole  trial,  yet  at  least  to  its 
inception — this,  I  say,  may  throw  some  light  on  two 
points  which  have  been  already  mentioned,  but  per¬ 
haps  not  yet  made  wholly  clear.  The  first  is  the 
paradoxical  aspect  of  the  exhortation  to  rejoice  in 
that  which  necessarily  involves  pain  and  suffering. 
The  paradox,  to  say  the  least,  may  seem  less  startling 
if  we  understand  the  text  as  calling  upon  men  to  re¬ 
joice,  not  that  they  are  suffering,  or  ^vhiU  they  suffer, 
although  even  tliis  does  not  transcend  the  limits  of 
expcriGiicc,  as  wg  know  from  tlic  triiimpliant  joy  of 
martyrs  at  the  stake,  and  of  many  a  lowlier  believer 
on  his  deathbed,  but  that  they  ham  suficred,  that  it 
has  pleased  God,  without  their  own  concurrence,  to 


398 


SERMONS. 


afford  them  the  occasion  of  attesting  their  fidelity, 
and  patience,  and  submission  to  his  will.  Such  joy, 
in  the  recollection  of  past  trials,  has  so  many  analogies 
in  general  experience,  that  it  cannot  even  be  called 
paradoxical  ”  without  injustice. 

The  other  point  on  which  the  same  consideration 
may  throw  some  light,  is  the  choice  of  an  expression 
which,  althongh  it  primarily  signifies  no  more  than 
moral  trial  or  a  test  of  character,  in  general  usage 
does  undoubtedly  denote  a  positive  solicitation  to  do 
wrong.  For  even  in  this  worst  sense  of  temptation, 
it  may  be  a  subject  of  rejoicing,  not  beforehand,  no, 
nor  in  the  very  crisis  of  the  spiritual  conflict ;  but 
when  that  is  past,  and  when  the  soul,  uu conscious  of 
its  danger  till  it  could  no  longer  be  avoided,  looks 
back  upon  the  fearful  risk  from  which  it  has  escaped, 
not  merely  with  gratitude  for  its  deliverance,  but 
with  unaffected  joy  that  there  was  such  a  risk  to  be 
delivered  from,  because  it  has  now  served  to  magnify 
God’s  grace,  and  at  the  same  time  to  attest  its  own 
fidelity.  Just  as  the  soldier,  who  would  have  been 
guilty  of  the  grossest  rashness  and  the  most  unpardon¬ 
able  violation  of  his  orders,  if  he  had  deliberately 
thrown  himself  into  the  way  of  a  superior  enemy, 
may — when  unexpectedly  surrounded  and  attacked, 
he  has  heroically  cut  his  way  through — rejoice,  not 
only  in  his  safety,  but  in  the  very  danger  which 
compelled  him  to  achieve  it. 

But  the  joy  experienced  in  the  case  before  us  is 
not  merely  retrospective,  but  prospective  also.  It  is 
not  an  ignorant  or  blind  joy,  but  is  founded  in  knowl¬ 
edge,  knowledge  not  only  of  the  principles  on  which 


JAMES  1,  2-8. 


399 


men  ought  to  act,  hut  of  the  consequences  which  may 
he  expected  from  a  certain  course  of  action  or  of  suffer¬ 
ing  ;  for  as  w^e  have  already  seen,  it  is  of  passive,  rather 
than  of  active  or  positive  obedience,  that  James  is 
speaking.  The  trials  or  temptations  of  the  Christian 
are  the  test  or  touchstone  of  his  faith,  both  in  the 
strict  and  comprehensive  sense.  They  put  to  the 
proof  his  trust  in  God,  his  belief  of  what  God  says,  of 
what  he  promises.  But  in  so  doing,  they  afford  the 
surest  test  of  his  religion,  of  his  whole  religious  char¬ 
acter.  Specific  trust  in  God’s  veracity  and  faithful¬ 
ness  is  not  and  cannot  be  an  independent,  insulated 
quality,  or  act,  or  habit.  It  must  have  its  causes 
and  effects  homogeneous  to  itself  in  the  man’s  creed, 
in  his  heart,  in  his  life.  Among  these  is  a  definite 
reliance  on  God’s  mercy,  not  as  a  mere  attribute  of 
the  divine  nature,  but  as  offered  and  exercised  in  a 
specific  form,  the  only  form  in  which  it  can  be  offered 
or  received  by  sinners.  The  text  says  nothing  ex¬ 
pressly  of  faith  in  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  but  every 
believer  in  this  Saviour  who  peruses  the  epistle,  feels 
that  it  is  presupposed,  assumed,  or  taken  for  granted, 
so  that  the  contracted  form  of  speech  here  used,  con¬ 
veys  to  such  a  reader  all  that  is  expressed  in  the  be¬ 
ginning  of  the  second  chapter,  where  the  one  word 
“  faitli  ”  is  amplified  into  the  “  faith  of  our  Lord  Jesus 
Christ,  the  Glorious,”  or  the  Lord  of  Glory.”  What 
is  there  said  explicitly,  is  here  said  by  necessary  im¬ 
plication.  He  wdio  could  use  the  longer  form,  could 
not  use  tlie  shorter  without  meaning  to  suggest  more 
than  he  says.  There  is  therefore  no  violence  what¬ 
ever  done  to  the  apostle’s  language,  when  we  under- 


400 


SERMONS. 


stand  liim  to  describe  temptation  as  a  test  of  sincere 
belief  in  Christ  as  “  the  only  name  given  under 
heaven  among  men  whereby  we  must  be  saved” 
from  sin  as  well  as  punishment,  and  not  of  mere  re¬ 
liance  on  the  power  and  Avillingness  of  God  to  deliver 
or  preserve  from  suffering.  In  both  these  senses,  or 
in  both  these  aj^plications  and  extensions  of  the  term, 
faith  is  necessarily  included  in  the  religious  character, 
of  which  a  test  is  furnished  by  providential  trials  or 
temptations. 

But  it  does  not  merely  furnish  present  evidence 
of  faith.  It  produces  a  permanent  effect  upon  the 
character.  It  generates  a  habit — that  of  patient  en¬ 
durance,  that  of  steadfast  perseverance  in  the  way  of 
God’s  commandments.  For  of  patience,  as  of  faith, 
it  may  be  said  that  it  cannot  stand  alone,  it  cannot 
exist  independently  of  other  virtues,  other  graces, 
other  traits  of  Christian  character.  The  principle  of 
active  and  passive  obedience  is  the  same.  He  who 
will  not  do  God’s  v/ill  cannot  endure  it  in  a  Christian 
spirit.  He  can  only  endure  it  in  the  way  of  punisli- 
ment.  Evangelical  patience  presupposes,  includes, 
or  carries  with  it  evangelical  obedience  or  activity. 
It  tlierefore  comprehends  a  very  large  part  of  experi¬ 
mental  and  practical  religion,  and  to  say  that  it  is 
fostered  and  matured  by  trial,  is  to  say  that  trial  or 
temptation,  in  the  sense  here  put  upon  the  term,  is  an 
important  means  of  grace,  of  spiritual  growth,  and  in¬ 
stead  of  being  angrily  complained  of  or  sullenly  repined 
at  as  a  hardship  or  a  cruelty,  ought  not  indeed  to  be 
desired  or  courted  any  more  than  medicines,  especially 
when  composed  of  poisons,  should  be  used  as  ordinary 


JAJVIES  1,  2-8. 


401 


food ;  but  when  administered,  without  our  agency  or 
even  option,  by  tlie  Great  Physician,  should  be  thank- 
fally  submitted  to,  and  afterwards  rejoiced  in,  as  a 
potent  agency  of  God’s  appointment  which  produces 
great  effects,  not  by  a  sudden  or  immediate  change, 
but  as  the  original  expression  seems  to  mean,  by  a 
gradual  and  long-continued  alterative  process ;  for  the 
trial  of  our  faith  “  worketh  out,”  elaborates,  and  as  it 
were  laboriously  cultivates  a  habit  of  persistent  and 
unwavering  obedience  and  submission  to  the  will  of 
God,  both  in  the  way  of  doing  and  suffering. 

That  the  patience  thus  commended  is  not  an  inert 
and  sluggish  principle,  much  less  a  mere  condition  of 
repose,  but  something  active  in  itself  and  tending  to 
activity  in  others,  is  evident  enough  from  the  apostle’s 
exhortation,  not  to  hinder  it  or  check  it  in  its  opera¬ 
tion,  but  to  give  it  free  scope,  let  it  have  its  perfect 
work  or  full  effect.  Could  this  be  said  of  mere  in¬ 
ertia,  or  even  patient  nonresistance?  Is  it  not  im¬ 
plied,  or  rather  is  it  not  expressly  said  that  this  divine 
vTTOfjbovi),  this  principle  and  habit  of  patient  continu¬ 
ance  in  doing  and  suffering  the  will  of  God,  is  not  a 
mere  superfluous  embellishment  of  Christian  character, 
a  work  of  supererogation  added  to  its  necessary  el¬ 
ements  by  way  of  doing  more  than  man  needs  or  than 
God  requires,  but  itself  an  element  that  cannot  be 
dis^Densed  with,  and  without  which  neither  sufferers 
nor  actors  in  God’s  service  can  be  “  perfect  and  en¬ 
tire,  wanting  nothing.”  How  many,  in  compounding 
their  ideal  of  a  perfect  Christian  character,  forget  to 
put  in  patience,  and  how  many,  who  in  theory  ac¬ 
knowledge  its  necessity,  refuse  to  let  it  have  its 
])erfect  work  ”  in  their  experience  and  practice ! 


402 


SERMONS. 


All  this  affords  abundant  room  for  wise  discrim¬ 
ination  and  a  sound  discretion.  It  is  evidently  not  a 
matter  wdiicli  can  be  disposed  of  or  conducted  to  a 
safe  and  happy  issue  by  mere  audacity  or  force  of 
will,  by  cutting  knots  which  ought  to  be  untied,  or 
by  a  reckless  disregard  of  delicate  distinctions  and 
perplexing  questions  which  arise  from  the  very  nature 
both  of  God  and  man,  and  from  their  mutual  rela¬ 
tions,  and  which  can  neither  solve  themelves,  nor  be 
solved  by  any  intellectual  force  short  of  wisdom  in 
the  highest  sense ;  not  mere  knowledge,  not  even  gen¬ 
uine  and  solid  knowledge,  much  less  the  capacity  of 
barren  speculation,  but  wisdom  in  the  noble  sense  at¬ 
tached  to  it  even  by  profane  philosophers,  intellectual 
powers  and  resources  under  the  control  of  moral  prin¬ 
ciple,  and  faithfully  applied  to  moral  uses  ;  a  wisdom 
shown  in  the  selection  of  the  highest  ends,  and  in  the 
aj)plication  of  the  most  etfective  means  to  gain  them. 
This  wisdom,  the  idea  of  which  was  familiar  to  the 
wisest  of  the  heathen,  has  been  realized  only  in  the 
school  of  revelation.  And  woe  to  him  who  undertakes, 
without  it,  to  solve  the  intricate  and  fearful  problem 
of  man’s  character  and  destiny !  This  can  be  done 
successfully,  and  even  safely,  only  by  the  wise  man, 
and  in  the  actual  use  and  exercise  of  real  wisdom. 
He  who  attempts  it  otherwise  can  only  be  regarded 
as  a  madman  throwing  about  firebrands,  arrows,  and 
death,  and  saying.  Am  I  not  in  sport  ?  This  is  no 
arbitrary  or  unmeaning  requisition,  for  unless  we 
abandon  the  very  definition  and  idea  of  true  wisdom 
as  chimerical,  we  cannot  possibly  conceive  of  any 
higher  or  more  necessary  use  to  which  its  possessors 


JAMES  1,  2-8.  ^03 

can  apply  it,  or  for  wMcli  tliose  who  have  it  not  are 
bonnd  to  seek  it. 

Blit  Iiow,  or  where  ?  they  may  be  ready  to  demand. 
In  what  quarter,  or  by  what  means  is  this  transcend¬ 
ent,  superhuman  wisdom,  to  be  made  available  for 
those  who  need  it  ?  If  no  exertion  of  man’s  unas¬ 
sisted  reason,  no  reach  of  speculation,  no  variety  of 
knowledge,  no  extent  of  observation,  no  depth  of  ex¬ 
perience,  can  supply  this  want  even  to  the  wisest, 
what  shall  he  do  who  lays  claim  to  so  much  dignity, 
but  feels  himself  to  be  deficient  in  this  most  essen¬ 
tial  point  ?  My  brethren,  whoever  does  feel  this  de¬ 
ficiency,  whoever  in  his  own  conviction  does  lack 
wisdom,  and  does  really  desire  to  have  it,  is  the  very 
man  who  has  no  right  or  reason  to  despair  of  it — the 
very  one  for  whom  this  scripture  makes  express  pro¬ 
vision — first,  by  pointing  out  the  only  source  from 
which  his  want  can  be  supplied,  and  then  by  assuring 
him  that  he  may  confidently  draw  upon  it.  “  If  any 
of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God.”  The  “if” 
is  not  expressive  of  a  doubt,  but  presupposes  an  un¬ 
questionable  fact,  or  rather  the  doubt  which  it  does 
seem  to  express  relates  not  to  the  fact  itself,  but  to 
the  sense  of  it — not  to  the  actual  necessity  and  ab¬ 
sence  of  true  wisdom  in  the  case  of  every  fallen  man, 
of  every  sinner  to  be  saved,  for  this  is  certain  and 
notorious,  attested  both  by  revelation  and  experience, 
but  to  the  consciousness  of  this  deficiency,  the  want 
of  which  is  ^^art  and  parcel  of  our  native  blindness  ; 
nothing  but  wisdom  can  reveal  our  folly  We  do  not 
even  feel  our  mental  maladies  until  the  healing  pro¬ 
cess  is  begun,  in  strict  accordance  with  the  wisest 


404 


SERMONS. 


saying  of  tlie  Avisest  of  tlie  ancient  Greeks,  that  he 
knew  nothing  certainly,  except  that  he  kneAV  nothing. 
This  epigrammatic  maxim  is  the  shell  or  wrapper  of 
a  very  profound  truth,  to  have  discovered  Avhich  is 
the  highest  honour  of  the  man  Avho  uttered  it — a 
truth,  however,  Avhich  to  him  and  to  the  wisest  of  his 
followers  was  a  mere  negation,  one  of  sweeping  mag¬ 
nitude  and  aAvfnl  import,  hut  a  negation  still ;  the 
positive  correlative  of  Avhich  was,  what  the  Avorld 
hy  wisdom  ”  Avas  for  ages  striving  after  Avithoiit  ever 
grasping,  till  at  length  God  pitied  them ;  and  seeing 
that  the  world,  Avith  all  its  Avisdom,  kneAV  not  God, 
Avas  pleased  to  save  them  that  believe  by  the  foolish¬ 
ness  of  preaching, — by  the  promolgation  of  a  noAV 
philosophy  Avhich  seemed  mere  folly  to  the  Avise  men 
of  the  Avorld,  as  it  reduced  their  Avisdom  to  the  simple 
and  most  nnphilosophical  acknoAAdedgment  of  Socrates, 
and  made  the  conscious  lack  of  AAdsdom  as  to  spiritual 
matters  indispensable  as  a  condition  of  reception  into 
its  school  among  its  disciples  ;  and  to  those  Avho  felt 
it,  and  confessed  it,  simply  saying,  If  any  of  you 
lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God.” 

My  hearers,  familiar,  elementary,  and  almost  triti- 
cal  as  this  may  seem  to  our  eyes,  bleared  and  dazzled 
by  the  blaze  of  gospel  light,  it  Avas  a  grand  discovery 
and  a  vast  advance  upon  the  previous  achievements 
of  the  human  mind.  It  is  like  uncovering  the  sun  to 
those  Avho  have  been  trying  to  strike  light  from  the 
flint,  or  digging  for  it  under  ground.  All  that  the 
schools  of  Greece  and  Egypt  and  the  East  had  been 
saying  for  a  course  of  ages  Avas — let  no  man  think 
that  he  lacks  Avisdom,  for  he  has  it  in  himself — or  at 


JAMES  1,  2-8. 


405 


most,  if  any  man  lack  wisdom,  let  him  come  to  me  ; 
but  when  the  voice  of  the  Evangelizing  Angel  whom 
John  saw  in  his  apocalyptic  vision  became  audi¬ 
ble,  the  schools  were  silent,  and  the  oracles  were 
dumb,  before  that  simple  precept  to  which  we  attach 
so  little  value — If  any  one  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let 
him  ask  of  God.”  But  this  asking  of  God  was  to  the 
Greeks  a  mockery.  Even  those  who  believed  in  God 
had  no  conception  of  immediate  spiritual  intercourse 
with  God,  still  less  of  intellectual  illumination,  sent 
directly  from  him.  They  knew  what  it  was  to  work 
out  wisdom  for  themselves,  or  to  seek  for  wisdom  at 
the  hands  of  human  sages  ;  but  this  was  a  new  idea — 
“  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God.” 
And  that  not  as  a  ceremony,  but  a  means,  a  certain 
means  of  acquisition — not  of  God  the  unknown  and 
the  unapproachable,  but  God  the  giver,  God  who 
gives,  who  actually  gives,  has  given,  will  give  again, 
wull  give  forever.  This  is  no  rash  venture,  but  a  mat¬ 
ter  of  experience.  You  are  only  asked  to  do  what 
others,  nay,  what  multitudes  have  done  before  you — 
ask  of  God,  of  God  himself.  What,  directly,  Avithout 
any  mediation,  without  any  but  his  Son’s,  without 
any  influence  but  that  of  his  Spirit,  Avhich  is  his 
own,  Avithout  the  intervention  of  philosophers  or 
priests,  without  circuitous  or  ceremonial  methods  of 
approach  !  As  simply  as  a  child  asks  food  of  a  parent, 
if  any  of  you  lack  Avisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God,” 
‘‘of  God  the  giver,  God  Avho  giveth,” — avIio  habitually 
giveth,  not  to  certain  favoured  nations,  castes,  or  indi¬ 
viduals,  but  to  all  men — not  to  Greeks  or  Joavs  alone, 
not  to  philosophers  or  priests  alone,  but  to  all  men — 


406 


SERMONS. 


yes,  to  all  men,  i.  e.  all  who  ask,  all  who  really  desire 
it,  all  who  ask  aright. 

Like  other  great  discoveries,  it  seems  almost  in¬ 
credible  that  this  should  never  have  been  stumbled 
on  before  ;  that  among  the  numberless  expedients  for 
supplying  the  deficiencies  of  human  wisdom,  this 
should  never  have  occurred,  in  its  simplicity,  to  any 
of  the  heathen  sages,  “  If  any  of  you  lack  wisdom, 
let  him  ask  of  God,  who  actually  giveth  unto  all  men.” 
How  ?  In  what  way  ?  In  what  spirit  ?  There  is 
something  really  sublime  in  the  simplicity  with  which 
this  question  is  here  answered.  It  is  not  only  simple, 
but  simplicity  itself.  “  He  giveth  simply.”  The  very 
grandeur  of  this  phrase  has  hindered  and  embarrassed 
its  interpretation.  It  seems  to  say  too  little,  when  in 
fact  it  says  too  much  for  us  to  compass.  It  seems  to 
be  irrelevant,  when  nothing  can  be  more  precisely 
adapted  to  the  end  proposed.  The  doubtful  and  sec¬ 
ondary  meanings  which  have  been  preferred,  if  not 
inadmissible,  are  all  superfluous.  “  He  giveth  liber¬ 
ally  ”  is  suggested  rather  than  expressed  ;  ‘Gm  giveth 
simply  ”  is  the  naked  sense  of  the  original — or  per¬ 
haps  it  may  be  rendered  more  precisely  still,  ^Gie 
simply  gives,” — he  gives — he  gives — and  that  is  all. 
lie  does  not  give,  and  not  give,  as  some  men  too  often 
do  ;  he  does  not  give  and  take  as  some  men  do  ;  he 
does  not  give  and  nullify  the  kind  act  by  unkind  words 
or  disclosing  unkind  motives ;  he  does  not  give  as 
many  a  proud  human  benefactor  gives,  and  then  uj)- 
braid  the  beneficiary  with  his  wants,  his  weakness,  his 
unworthiness,  his  former  gifts, — “  he  simj^ly  gives  ;  ” 
“  he  gives  to  all  men  and  upbraideth  not.”  This 


JAMES  1,  2-8. 


407 


human  proi^ensity  to  mar  the  value  of  a  gift  by  mix¬ 
tures  of  unlvinclness  or  ill-timed  severity,  was  so  fa¬ 
miliar  to  the  ancients  as  to  he  embodied  in  their  pro¬ 
verbs.  But  from  all  these  mixtures,  and  from  others 
like  them,  and  from  every  thing  that  poisons  human 
favours,  God’s  are  infinitely,  wholly  free.  The  best 
of  men  give  only  to  some  objects,  and  with  some  ac¬ 
companying  drawbacks  ;  hut  he  simply  gives, — he 
gives  to  all  men  and  uphraideth  not. 

My  brethren,  for  such  a  giver  is  it  too  much  to 
expect,  that  he  who  asks  shall  ask  in  faith  and  in  sin¬ 
cerity,  desiring  what  he  asks,  believing  in  God’s  will¬ 
ingness  and  power  to  bestow  it  ?  If  God  giveth,  sim¬ 
ply  giveth,  and  uphraideth  not,  is  it  too  much  to  re¬ 
quire  that  man  should  ask,  and  doubt  not,  and  dis¬ 
semble  not,  and  waver  not  ?  If  God  gives  sim23ly, 
singljq  with  a  pure,  umnixed,  unqualified  benevolence, 
is  it  too  much  to  require  that  man  should  not  ask 
doubly,  hypocritically — no  ;  nor  even  with  a  double 
mind  or  soul  in  a  less  offensive  sense,  the  sense  of  in¬ 
stability  and  vacillation,  sometimes  wishing,  some¬ 
times  not — now  asking  this,  now  that — asking,  and 
then  refusing  to  receive  the  very  thing  before  desired. 
Bespect  for  even  human  benefactors  requires  that  the 
petitioner  should  know  his  own  mind  before  asking, 
and  not  lightly  change  it  after  asking.  And  is  less 
respect  due  to  that  glorious  Giver,  who,  with  every 
reason  to  refuse  still  giveth,  and  with  every  right  to 
make  distinctions  giveth  unto  all  men  alike  ?  and 
with  every  right  and  every  reason  to  accompany 
his  gifts  with  hard  conditions,  and  with  harsh  up- 
braidings,  simply  giveth,  freely  giveth  and  uphraideth 


408 


SERMONS. 


not  ?  Is  it  too  mucli  for  him  to  sny  of  every  one 
who  asketh,  let  him  ask  in  faith,  nothing  waver¬ 
ing,”  either  in  trust  or  purpose — not  at  variance  with 
himself — not  self-contradictory  in  his  petitions — not  a 
man  of  two  minds,  or  of  two  souls,  or  of  two  hearts, 
hut  of  one,  and  that  one  fixed  on  God,  on  Christ? 
hlo  ;  so  easy  and  so  reasonable  a  condition  scarce  de¬ 
serves  the  name,  especially  as  he  who  asks  it  gives  it. 
Well  might  the  wisest  of  the  Fathers  pray,  ‘^Give 
what  thou  requirest,  and  require  what  thou  wilt !  ” 
It  is  an  insult  of  the  grossest  kind  to  God  the  giver, 
to  bring  into  his  presence  a  mind  tossing  with  tu¬ 
multuous  and  inconsistent  passions,  like  the  troubled 
sea  which  cannot  rest,  but  casteth  up  mire  and  dirt. 
“  Let  not  that  man  think  that  he  shall  receive  any 
thing  of  the  Lord,”  but  only  he  who,  through  divine 
grace,  can  exclaim — My  heart  is  fixed,  oh  God,  my 
heart  is  fixed  !  ”  The  man  whose  heart  is  wmvering 
and  double  is  not  merely  deficient  in  his  prayers,  but 
in  his  whole  religious  character,  of  which  his  prayers 
are  but  an  index ;  he  is  inconsistent  and  inconstant, 
fickle  and  “  unstable  in  all  his  ways.”  While  he  thus 
reasons  he  cannot  therefore  expect  God  to  give  him 
wisdom,  that  transcendent  wisdom,  without  which 
patience  cannot  have  her  perfect  work,  or  extract  her 
spiritual  food  out  of  the  medicine  of  trial  and  the  poi¬ 
son  of  temptation.  And  yet  this  is  bur  last  resort ;  if 
this  fail  us,  there  is  no  hope  elsewhere.  Whither  shall 
we  turn  in  search  of  wisdom  but  to  Him  who  giveth 
freely  unto  all  men  and  upbraideth  not.  We  come 
back  therefore  to  the  conclusion,  that  if  any  man  lack 
wisdom,  let  him  ask  of  God. 


XXII. 


Isaiah  5,  20. — Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil ; 
that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ;  that  put  bitter  for 
sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter  ! 

If  the  judgments  of  men  are  liabitiiallj  influenced 
their  afiections,  it  is  not  surprising  that  their  speech 
sliould  bear  the  impress  of  the  same  controlling  power. 
What  we  hear  men  say  in  the  way  of  passing  judg¬ 
ment  upon  things  and  persons,  unless  said  deliberately 
for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  those  who  hear  them, 
wull  afford  us,  for  the  most  part,  a  correct  idea  of  their 
dispositions  and  prevailing  inclinations.  There  is  in¬ 
deed  a  customary  mode  of  talking,  practised  by  some 
men,  in  whicli  familiar  formulas  of  praise  and  cen¬ 
sure,  as  to  moral  objects,  are  employed  as  if  by  rote, 
involving  the  admission  of  important  principles,  and 
recognizing  in  its  full  extent  the  grand  distinction  be¬ 
tween  moral  good  and  evil.  Such  men  will  speak 
familiarly  of  other  men,  and  of  their  acts,  as  right  or 
wrong,  as  virtuous  or  vicious,  in  a  manner  Avhich  im¬ 
plies  not  only  preference  of  judgment  but  of  incli¬ 
nation  ;  so  that  if  we  draw  conclusions  from  their  lan¬ 
guage  merely,  we  sliould  certainly  infer  that  they  not 
VOL.  II. — 17 


410 


SERMONS. 


only  understood  tlie  principles  of  sound  morality,  but 
loved  them  and  obeyed  them.  The  latter  conclusions 
would,  in  too  many  instances,  be  found  to  be  erroneous, 
not  because  the  person,  in  his  talk,  was  guilty  of  de¬ 
liberate  hypocrisy,  or  even  intended  to  deceive  at  all, 
but  because  his  words  conveyed  more  than  he  meant, 
especially  when  phrases  used  of  course,  and  by  a  sort 
of  habit,  came  to  be  subjected  to  the  rules  of  a  strict 
interpretation.  But  in  all  such  cases  it  will  soon  be 
found,  upon  a  little  observation,  that  the  dialect  in 
question,  however  near  it  may  approach  to  that  of 
evangelical  morality,  is  still  distinguished  from  it  by 
indubitable  marks, — to  one  of  which  I  shall  direct 
your  notice,  and  have  no  doubt  that  it  will  be  imme¬ 
diately  confirmed  by  your  own  experience. 

If,  then,  you  know  any  one  who  thus  indulges  in 
the  use  of  such  conventional  expressions  as  imply  a 
recognition  of  those  principles  of  morals  which  are 
laid  down  in  the  Bible,  but  whose  conduct,  on  the 
other  hand,  repudiates  and  nullifies  them — have  you 
not  observed,  that  in  expressing  his  opinions  upon 
moral  subjects,  he  avoids,  as  if  instinctively,  those 
terms  of  censure  and  of  approbation  which  belong 
distinctively  to  scripture,  and  confines  himself  to  those 
which  are  common  to  the  Bible  and  the  heathen  mor¬ 
alists,  to  Christian  ethics  and  the  code  of  honour. 
He  will  speak  of  an  act,  or  a  course  of  acts,  as  wrong, 
perhaps  as  vicious,' — it  may  even  be  as  wicked,  but 
not  as  sinf  ul.  There  are  crimes  and  vices,  but  no 
sins  in  his  vocabulary.  The  difference  between  the 
terms,  as  viewed  by  such  a  person,  seems  to  be  that 
vice  and  crime  are  referable  merely  to  an  abstract 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


411 


standard,  and  perhaps  a  variable  one  ;  while  sin  brings 
into  view  the  legislative  and  judicial  character  of 
Grod. 

Sin  too  is  associated,  in  most  minds,  with  the  hn- 
miliating  doctrine  of  a  natural  depravity,  while  vice 
and  crime  suggest  the  idea  of  a  voluntary  aberration 
on  the  part  of  one,  by  nature  free  from  taint,  and 
abundantly  able  to  stand  fast  in  his  own  strength. 
By  tracing  such  diversities,  however  slight  and  trivial 
they  seem  to  be  when  in  themselves  considered,  we 
may  soon  learn  to  distinguish  the  characteristic  dialect 
of  worldly  moralists  from  that  of  evangelical  religion. 
It  will  also  be  found,  that  in  the  use  of  terms  em¬ 
ployed  by  both,  there  is  a  difference  of  sense,  it  may 
be  unintentional,  denoting  no  small  difference  in 
point  of  principle.  Especially  is  this  the  case  in 
reference  to  those  important  principles  of  morals 
which  bear  most  directly  upon  the  ordinary  business 
of  life,  and  come  most  frequently  into  collision  with 
the  selfish  interests  and  inclinations  of  ungodly  men. 
Two  men  for  instance  shall  converse  together  upon 
truth  and  falsehood,  upon  honesty  and  fraud,  employ¬ 
ing  the  same  words  and  phrases,  and  perhaps  aware 
of  no  diversity  of  meaning  in  their  application.  In 
their  principles  and  feelings  they  shall  seem  to  coin¬ 
cide,  both  approving  and  condemning  with  a  perfect 
unanimity.  And  yet  when  you  come  to  ascertain  the 
sense  in  which  they  severally  use  the  terms  employed 
by  both,  you  shall  find  that  while  the  one  adopts  the 
rigorous  and  simple  rule  of  truth  and  falsehood,  wliidi 
is  laid  down  in  the  Bible  and  by  common  ‘sense,  the 
other  holds  it  with  so  many  qualifications  and  excep- 


412 


SERMONS. 


tions,  as  almost  to  render  it  a  rule  more  lionoured 
in  the  breach  tlian  the  observance.  The  one  is  so 
tolerant  of  innocent  decep tions,  and  of  jocose  lies,  or 
of  conventional  concealments  and  pretences  in  the 
way  of  business,  that  the  other,  when  he  comes  to 
understand  him,  finds  the  ground  on  which  he  stood 
swept  away  by  these  insidious  refinements,  and  begins 
to  feel  that  even  in  morals  the  old  proverb  is  a  true 
one,  what  is  one  man’s  food  may  be  another  man’s 
poison. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  this  unperceived  and 
undefinable  diversity  in  the  use  of  language,  exerts  a 
constant  and  extensive  influence  on  human  inter¬ 
course,  and  leads  to  many  of  those  misconceptions 
which  are  tending  daily  to  increase  the  mutual  dis¬ 
trust  of  men  in  one  another’s  candour  and  sincerity. 
But  while  it  is  unquestionably  true  that  the  language 
whicii  men  hold  in  regard  to  moral  subjects,  is  not, 
in  every  case,  a  sure  criterion  of  their  own  dispo¬ 
sitions,  even  where  there  is  no  direct  intention  to 
deceive ;  there  remains,  after  all  allowable  deduc¬ 
tion  upon  this  score,  an  extensive  field  of  curious  and 
profitable  observation.  There  are  multitudes  of  in¬ 
stances,  to  which  the  force  of  habit  and  colloquial 
usage,  as  explained  already,  do  not  reach,  and  which 
are  therefore  fair  occasions  for  employing  men’s  ex¬ 
pressions  as  a  test  of  tlieir  secret  inclinatioiis  and  the 
state  of  their  affections.  And  in  this  there  is  very 
little  danger  of  injustice  to  the  subject  of  the  scrutiny. 
The  cases  which  have  been  alreadv  mentioned  are 

tj 

exceptions  to  the  general  rule,  oi‘  rather  to  its  rigid 
application,  that  “  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


413 


the  inoiitli  speaketh  ;  ”  all  tend  to  favour  him  whose 
words  are  taken  as  an  index  to  his  character.  The 
exception  which  has  been  admitted  is  not  that  men 
are  often  better  than  their  words  would  represent 
them,  but  the  contrary.  If  indeed  it  were  commonly 
or  often  true  that  men  employ  language  which  im¬ 
plies  a  denial  or  a  disregard  of  moral  distinctions, 
and  indeed  a  preference  of  evil  to  good,  while  in  fact 
they  are  not  only  sound  in  judgment,  upon  this  es¬ 
sential  point,  but  cordially  disposed  to  give  the  pref¬ 
erence  to  virtue,  tlien  indeed  it  might  be  possible  to 
do  them  gross  injustice  by  the  use  of  such  a  test. 

But  who  pretends  to  think  that  men  are  often,  I 
might  almost  say  ever,  better  in  the  bent  of  their  af¬ 
fections  and  their  moral  dispositions  than  in  the  gen¬ 
eral  drift  of  their  discourse  ?  Who  does  not  know 
that  they  are  often  worse,  and  that  wdiere  any  maiked 
diversity  exists,  the  difference  is  commonly  in  favour 
of  his  v/ords  at  the  expense  of  his  thoughts  and  feel¬ 
ings  ?  If  we  err  therefore  in  the  application  of  the 
test  pro]30sed,  we  are  far  more  apt  to  err  in  favour  of 
the  subject  than  against  him.  If  his  Avords  are  in 
truth  an  exponent  of  his  feelings,  we  shall  do  him 
justice ;  if  not,  there  is  every  reason  to  believe  tliat 
he  is  Averse  than  lie  appears  to  be.  Let  it,  hoAvever, 
he  observed,  that  nothing  could  be  more  unjust  or 
utterly  subversive  of  impartial  judgment,  in  this 
matter,  than  to  choose  as  tests  or  symptoms  mere  oc¬ 
casional  expressions.  Foav  men- are  so  bad  that  they 
never  speak  good  sentiments.  And  alas  for  the  best, 
if  they  must  stand  or  fall  by  their  ability  or  inability 
to  prove  that  they  have  never  uttered  splenetic,  or 


414 


SERMONS. 


friyoloiis,  or  unbecoming  language.  Tbe  lioliest  men 
have  had  occasion  to  lament  their  own  delinquencies 
in  this  respect ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  notorious 
profligates  and  unbelievers  have  been  known  to  utter 
sentiments  of  pure  and  stern  morality,  with  such  ap¬ 
parent  earnestness  and  candour,  that  the  hearers 
might  have  been  excused  for  crying  out,  “  Is  Saul 
also  among  the  prophets  ?  ”  It  is  not  by  such  ebul¬ 
litions,  whether  good  or  evil,  that  the  heart  is  to  be 
judged,  but  by  the  general  tone  and  tenor  of  the  con¬ 
versation  upon  moral  subjects.  It  would  not  be  just 
or  safe  to  say  that  he  who  has  been  known  to  bear  his 
testimony  to  the  excellence  of  virtue,  is  a  good  man, 
even  in  the  worldly  sense  ;  or  on  the  other  hand,  that 
he  who  has  been  heard  to  speak  deridingly,  or  spite¬ 
fully,  or  doubtfully  of  fundamental  principles  in  mor¬ 
als,  is  infallibly  a  villain,  though  the  latter  conclusion 
would  be  far  more  warrantable  than  the  former,  for  a 
reason  before  stated.  But  it  may  be  said  with  due 
regard  to  truth  and  justice,  in  the  abstract,  and  in 
ripplication  to  the  character  of  individuals,  that  he 
who  habitually,  and  as  if  by  impulse,  takes  the  'side  of 
virtue,  without  partiality  and  without  hypocrisy,  is 
virtuous  himself ;  and  that  he  who  in  like  manner  is 
invariably  prompted,  when  there  is  no  outward  coun¬ 
teracting  influence,  to  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil, 
is  one  who,  like  the  fallen  angel,  says  in  his  heart, 
“  Evil,  be  thou  my  good  !  ’’  and  is  therefore  a  just 
subject  of  the  woe  denounced  by  the  prophet  in  the 
text.  It  may  indeed  be  thought  that  this  expression 
is  descriptive,  not  so  much  of  those  who  hate  good 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


415 


and  love  evil,  as  of  those  who  err  as  to  what  is  good 
and  what  is  evil. 

But  it  must  not  be  forgotten  that  a  rational  nature 
is  incapable  of  loving  evil,  simplj  viewed  as  evil,  or 
of  liating  good,  when  simply  viewed  as  good.  What¬ 
ever  thing  you  love,  you  thereby  recognize  as  good  ; 
and  what  you  hate  or  abhor,  you  thereby  recognize 
as  evil.  To  hate  a  thing,  and  yet  regard  it  as  a  good 
thing,  is  a  mere  contradiction,  if  the  terms  be  taken 
in  the  same  sense,  or  referred  to  the  same  standard 
of  comparison.  ISTo  man  can  dislike  a  taste,  or  smell, 
or  sound  which,  at  the  same  time,  he  regards  as 
pleasant,  nor  can  he  like  one  which  he  thinks  un¬ 
pleasant.  To  regard  a  thing  as  pleasant  is  to  like  it, 
and  to  dislike  it  is  to  think  it  disagreeable.  But 
change  the  standard  of  comparison,  and  what  ap¬ 
peared  impossible  is  realized.  The  music  which  is 
sweetest  to  your  ear  may  be  offensive  when  it  breaks 
the  slumber  of  your  sleeping  friend ;  the  harshest 
voice  may  charm  you  when  it  announces  that  your 
friend  still  lives.  The  darling  sin  is  hated  by  the 
sinner  as  the  means  of  his  damnation,  though  he  loves 
it  as  the  source  of  present  pleasure ;  and  in  proportion 
as  the  present  and  tiie  future  world  are  present  to  his 
thoughts  and  his  belief,  may  his  affections  vary  as 
to  the  same  object.  When,  therefore,  men  profess  to 
look  upon  that  as  excellent  which  in  their  hearts  and 
lives  they  treat  as  hateful,  and  to  regard  as  evil  and 
abominable  that  which  they  are  seekmg  after,  and 
which  they  delight  in,  they  are  not  expressing  their 
own  feelings,  but  assenting  to  the  judgment  of  others. 
They  are  measuring  the  object  by  a  borrowed  stand- 


41G 


SERMONS. 


ard,  while  tlieir  own  is  wholly  different.  And  if 
they  are  really  so  far  enlightened  as  to  think  sincerely 
that  the  objects  of  their  passionate  attachment  are 
evil,  this  is  only  admitting  that  their  own  affections 
are  disordered  and  at  variance  with  reason.  It  is  vir¬ 
tually  saying  :  Such  a  thing  is  good  to  my  perceptions, 
but  I  know  that  they  are  wrong.  It  is  just  as  if  a 
man’s  sense  of  taste  should  be  so  vitiated  through 
disease  that  what  is  sweet  to  others,  is  to  him  a  pun¬ 
gent  bitter.  lie  may  be  convinced  by  argument  and 
testimony,  that  according  to  the  natural  perceptions 
of  mankind  the  thing  is  sweet,  and  that  the  bitterness 
is  in  his  own  disordered  palate.  This  may  satisfy  his 
reason,  but  whenever  that  same  object  comes  in  con¬ 
tact  with  his  palate,  it  will  still  be  bitter,  till  its 
qualities  are  changed,  or  his  organs  of  taste  resume 
their  natural  and  healthful  functions.  So  the  sinner 
may  believe  on  God’s  authority  or  man’s,  that  sin  is 
evil  and  that  holiness  is  good,  but  as  a  matter  of  af¬ 
fection  and  of  inclination,  his  corrupted  taste  will 
still  reject  the  sweet  as  bitter  and  receive  the  bitter 
as  sweet ;  his  diseased  eye  will  still  confoimd  light 
with  darkness,  and  his  lips,  whenever  they  express 
the  feelings  of  his  heart,  will  continue  to  call  good 
evil  and  evil  good. 

These  three  forms  of  expression  in  the  text  appear 
to  be  significant  of  one  and  the  same  thing.  The 
thought  is  clothed,  first,  in  literal,  and  then  in  meta¬ 
phorical  expressions.  To  put  darkness  for  light  and 
light  for  darkness  ;  to  put  bitter  for  SAveet,  and  sweet 
for  bitter ;  is  nothing  more  nor  less  than  to  call  cauI 
good  and  good  evil,  or,  as  the  same  idea  is  differently 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


417 


worded  in  tlie  margin,  to  say  of  evil  it  is  good,  and 
of  good  it  is  evil.  Tlie  cliaracter  tlins  drawn  is  gen¬ 
erally  applicable  to  ungodly  men.  Tney  all  put  dark¬ 
ness  for  liglit  and  liglit  for  darkness.  They  all  put 
bitter  for  sweet  and  sweet  for  bitter.  They  all  call 
evil  good  and  good  evil.  If  the  verse  be  taken  merely 
in  this  general  sense,  the  woe  wliicli  it  prononnces  is 
a  general  woe,  or  declaration  of  divine  displeasure 
and  denunciation  of  impending  wrath  against  the 
wicked  generally,  simply  equivalent  to  that  in  the 
third  chapter,  (verse  11,)  Woe  nnto  the  wicked  !  it 
shall  be  ill  with  him,  for  the  reward  of  his  hands  shall 
be  given  him.” 

Snell  a  declaration,  awful  as  it  is,  and  perfectly  in 
keeping  with  the  uniform  tenor  of  the  word  of  God, 
would  furnish  no  specific  test  of  character,  because  it 
would  still  leave  the  question  undecided,  vfho  it  is 
that  chooses  evil  and  rejects  the  good.  But  it  is  very 
obvious  that,  in  the  case  before  us,  the  ^^rophet  is  very 
far  from  meaning  merely  to  assert  the  general  liability 
of  sinners  to  the  wrath  of  God.  The  text  is  the  fourth 
in  a  series  of  six  woes,  denounced  upon  as  many  out¬ 
ward  manifestations  of  corrupt  affection.  Under 
the  figure  of  a  vineyard  which,  though  sedulously 
cultivated,  only  produced  wild  grapes,  ho  had  repre¬ 
sented  the  ungrateful  and  unprofitable  service  of  the 
ancient  Israel,  explaining  the  parable  and  summing  up 
its  lessons  in  the  seventh  verse :  The  vineyard  of  the 
Lord  of  Hosts  is  the  house  of  Israel,  and  the  men  of 
Judah  his  pleasant  plant:  and  he  looked  for  judg¬ 
ment,  but  behold  oppression ;  for  righteousness,  but 
behold  a  cry.”  From  this  general  and  sweeping 

VOL.  II. — 18'^ 


418 


SERMONS. 


charge  against  the  nation,  he  proceeds  to  an  enumera¬ 
tion  of  particular  offences  then  especially  prevailing, 
but  by  no  means  limited  to  that  age  or  country  :  and 
he  sets  these  forth,  not  as  the  product  of  so  many  evil 
principles,  but  as  the  varied  exhibition  of  that  uni¬ 
versal  and  profound  corruption  which  he  had  just 
asserted  to  exist,  in  general  terms. 

The  first  of  these  specified  corruptions  is  the 
avaricious  and  ambitious  grasping  after  great  posses¬ 
sions,  not  merely  as  a  means  of  luxurious  indulgence, 
but  as  a  distinction  and  a  gratification  of  pride : 
“  Woe  unto  them  that  join  house  to  house,  that  lay 
field  to  field,  till  there  be  no  place,  that  they  may  be 
placed  alone  in  the  midst  of  the  earth,’’  (v.  8.)  Is  this 
an  obsolete  iniquity  in  our  day,  and  especially  in  our 
favoured  country,  where  the  rich  and  poor  so  often 
exchange  places,  and  where  the  children  of  poor 
parents  can  aspire  to  be  the  masters  of  tlie  soil,  ay, 
and  stop  their  ears  against  the  claims  of  their  poor 
creditors,  that  they  whose  inheritance  was  nothing 
may  lay  field  to  field,  and  be  j)laced  alone  in  the 
midst  of  the  earth  ?  “In  mine  ears,  saith  the  Lord  of 
Hosts,  of  a  truth  many  houses  shall  be  desolate,  even 
great  and  fair  without  inhabitant.”  It  was  to  such 
that  the  prophet  threatened  woe,  and  to  such  that  the 
apostle  James  exclaimed  long  afterwards  :  “  Behold 
the  hire  of  your  labourers  who  have  reaped  down 
your  fields,  which  is  of  you  kept  back  by  fraud, 
crieth  ;  and  the  cries  of  them  which  have  reaped  are 
entered  into  the  ears  of  the  Lord  of  Sabaoth.” 
(Jas.  5,  4.) 

The  next  form  of  iniquity  denounced  is  drunken- 


ISAIAH  6,  20. 


419 


ness :  “  Woe  unto  tliem  that  rise  up  early  in  the 
morning,  that  they  may  follow  strong  drink ;  that 
continue  until  night  till  wine  inflame  them,”  (v.  11.) 
Is  this  too  a  peculiar  vice  of  ancient  times,  unknown  in 
modern  civilized  society ,  and  alas,  that  I  should  say 
it,  in  the  church  of  God  ?  In  this,  as  in  the  first  case, 
the  description  of  the  crime  is  followed  hy  its  punish¬ 
ment,  including  not  only  personal  hut  national  calam¬ 
ities,  as  war,  desolation,  and  captivity.  The  third  sin 
is  that  of  the  presumptuous,  blaspheming  sinner,  who 
goes  on  to  sin,  not  that  grace  may  abound,  but  that 
God  may  take  vengeance;  “Woe  unto  them  that 
draw  iniquity  with  cords  of  vanity,  and  sin  as  it  were 
with  a  cart  rope  :  that  say,  let  him  make  speed  and 
hasten  his  work,  that  we  may  see  it ;  and  let  the 
counsel  of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  draw  nigh  and 
come  that  we  may  know  it,”  (vs.  18,  19.)  Have  we 
no  such  blasphemers,  or  at  least  such  tacit  challengers 
of  vengeance  ?  Let  your  eyes,  and  ears,  and  mem¬ 
ory,  and  conscience  answer. 

The  fourth  form  in  iniquity  is  set  forth  in  the  text. 
The  fifth  is  that  of  overweening  confidence  in  human 
reason  as  opposed  to  God’s  unerring  revelation : 
“  Woe  unto  them  that  are  wise  in  their  own  eyes, 
and  prudent  in  their  own  sight ;  ”  another  marked 
and  hideous  feature  in  the  age  in  which  we  live.  The 
sixth  is  drunkenness,  considered,  not  a  sin  the  former 
case,  under  the  aspect  of  a  personal  excess,  producing 
inconsideration  and  neglect  of  God,  but  as  a  vice  of 
magistrates  and  rulers,  and  as  leading  to  oppression 
and  all  practical  injustice  :  “Woe  unto  them  that  are 
mighty  to  drink  wine,  and  men  of  strength  to  mingle 


420 


SERMONS. 


strong  drink,  wliicli  justify  tlie  wicked  for  reward, 
and  take  away  tlie  right  of  the  righteous  from  him,’’ 

■  (vs.  22, 23.)  I  should  hlush  for  my  country  if  compelled 
to  answer  to  the  question,  whether  such  excesses  have 
not  been  associated  even  in  her  borders  with  official 
power  and  official  influence ;  and  I  must  tremble  for 
my  country,  when  I  hear  the  voice  of  God  proclaim¬ 
ing  as  the  consequence  of  this  incestuous  connection 
between  vice  and  power  :  Therefore  as  the  fire  de- 
voureth  the  stubble,  and  the  flame  consumeth  the 
chaff,  so  their  root  shall  be  as  rottenness,  and  their 
blossom  shall  go  up  as  dust :  because  they  have  cast 
away  the  law  of  the  Lord  of  Hosts,  and  despised  the 
word  of  the  Holy  One  of  Israel,”  (v.  24.) 

This  rapid  recapitulation  of  the  context  I  have 
given  for  two  reasons  :  1,  to  show  that  in  this  whole 
passage,  the  prophet  has  reference  to  species  of  ini¬ 
quity  familiar  to  our  own  time  and  country ;  and  2, 
chiefly  to  evince,  that  in  the  text  we  have  not  a  mere 
denunciation  of  God’s  wrath  upon  wickedness  in  gen¬ 
eral,  but  the  description  of  a  certain  outward  form  in 
which  the  prevailing  wickedness  betrayed  itself.  It 
does  not  teach  us  merely  that  punishment  awaits  those 
who  choose  evil  in  preference  to  good,  but  that  an 
outward  mark  of  those  who  hate  God,  and  whom  God 
designs  to  punish,  is  their  confounding  moral  distinc¬ 
tions  in  their  conversation ;  calling  evil  good  and 
good  evil,  putting  darkness  for  light  and  light  for 
darkness,  putting  bitter  for  sweet  and  sweet  for  bitter. 
As  the  other  symptoms  of  a  general  corruption,  which 
are  here  enumerated,  have  their  counterparts  in  mod¬ 
ern  times,  and  in  the  world  around  us_,  we  are  war- 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


421 


ranted  in  tliinking  tliat  the  analogy  holds  good  in 
this  case  also,  and  that  among  the  surest  signs  of 
those  who  hate  God,  and  whom  God  abhors,  is  their 
habitual,  instinctive  disposition  to  call  evil  good  and 
good  evil. 

How  this  is  done,  I  now  invite  yon  to  consider, 
not  as  a  theme  of  abstract  speculation,  or  as  a  matter 
of  fact  in  which  yon  feel  no  individual  concern,  but 
as  a  practical  and  personal  inquiry  of  the  deepest 
moment,  which,  as  rational  and  conscientious  beings, 
jmn  are  bound  to  answer  each  one  for  himself.  And 
in  suggesting  this  inquiry,  I  assume  that  all  who  hear 
me  are  respectful  hearers  of  the  gospel,  and  professed 
believers  in  tlie  truth  of  Christianity  ;  that  none  of  you 
are  wont  to  call  in  question  any  of  its  fundamental 
doctrines,  much  less  to  carp  at  the  first  principles 
of  morals.  You  admit  distinctly  the  essential  differ¬ 
ence  of  right  and  wrong ;  the  excellence  of  truth, 
and  the  turpitude  of  falsehood  ;  the  superiority  of 
reason  and  conscience  to  appetite  and  passion  as  the 
guides  of  human  conduct ;  you  allow  tlie  will  of  God 
to  be  a  binding  rule  of  action,  and  the  Bible  to  be  a 
revelation  of  that  will.  You  grant  that  it  reveals  the 
only  method  of  salvation  for  a  ruined  world,  and  that 
whatever  tends  to  make  it  known,  and  give  it  prac¬ 
tical  efficiency,  contributes  to  the  haj)piness  and  ele¬ 
vation  of  the  human  race. 

From  none  of  these  important  doctrines  would 
you  perhaps  be  willing  to  dissent  in  terms,  and  so 
far  you  are  innocent  of  calling  evil  good  and  good 
evil.  1  do  not  ask  you  whether  by  your  conduct  you 
arc  not  belying  your  profession  of  these  principles ; 


422 


SERMONS. 


for  difficult  to  answer  as  the  question  might  be,  it 
would  interrupt  the  train  of  thought  which  we  have 
been  pursuing.  But  the  question  which  I  ask  is  this ; 
when  one  who  thus  admits  in  words  the  great  first 
principles  of  morals,  takes  away  so  much  on  one 
hand,  and  grants  so  much  on  the  other,  as  to  obliter¬ 
ate  the  practical  distinction  between  right  and  wrong ; 
when  with  one  breath  he  asserts  the  inviolable  sanc¬ 
tity  of  truth,  but  with  the  next  breath  makes  provi¬ 
sion  for  benevolent,  professional,  jocose,  or  thoughtless 
falsehood  ;  when  in  the  abstract  he  asserts  the  claims 
of  justice,  and  the  obligation  to  give  every  man  his 
own,  but  in  application  to  specific  cases  thinks  it  law¬ 
ful  to  enrich  himself  at  other  men’s  expense,  or  to 
take  advantage  of  another’s  weakness,  ignorance,  or 
error ;  when  he  admits  the  paramount  importance  of 
religious  duties  in  the  general,  but  in  detail  dissects 
aw'ay  the  vital  parts  as  superstition,  sanctimony,  or 
fanaticism,  and  leaves  a  mere  abstraction  or  an  out¬ 
ward  form  behind  ;  when  he  approves  the  requisitions 
of  the  law  and  the  provisions  of  the  gospel  in  so  far 
as  they  apply  to  other  people,  but  repudiates  them 
as  applying  to  himself;  when  any  one  does  this,  or 
any  part  of  this,  or  any  thing  analogous  to  this,  I  ask, 
'whatever  his  professions  or  his  creed  may  be,  whether 
he  does  not  virtually,  actually,  call  evil  good  and 
good  evil. 

Again,  I  ask  you,  whether  he  who  in  the  general 
admits  the  turpitude  of  fraud,  impurity,  intemperance, 
malignity,  and  other  vicious  dispositions  with  their 
practical  effects,  and  thus  appears  to  he  an  advocate 
for  purity  of  morals,  but  when  insulated  cases  or 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


423 


specific  acts  of  vice  are  made  the  subject  of  discussion, 
treats  them  all  as  peccadilloes,  inadvertencies,  absurd¬ 
ities,  indiscretions,  or  perhaps  as  virtues  modestly  dis¬ 
guised  ;  whether  he  who  condemns  drunkenness,  but 
clears  the  drunkard  ;  he  who  frowns  upon  fraud,  but 
smiles  upon  the  fashionable  swindler  or  defaulter  ;  he 
who  hates  licentiousness,  but  loves  the  libertine ;  is 
horror-struck  at  murder,  but  can  fawn  upon  the  duel- 
list  and  flatter  the  assassin ;  I  ask,  whether  he  who 
does  all  this  can  be  protected  by  the  mere  assertion  of 
a  few  general  principles  from  the  fatal  charge  of  call¬ 
ing  evil  good.  And,  as  the  counterpart  of  this,  I  ask 
you  whether  he  who  praises  and  admires  all  goodness, 
not  embodied  in  the  life  of  living  men  or  women,  but 
detests  it  when  thus  realized  in  concrete  excellence ; 
who  praises  piety,  but  blames  the  pious  ;  who  extols 
benevolence,  but  doubts  the  motives  of  the  few  who 
practise  it ;  who  honours  warm  devotion,  but  laughs 
the  wretched  devotee  to  scorn  ;  in  short,  who  wor¬ 
ships  virtue  as  a  being  in  the  clouds,  but  hates  her 
when  incarnate  in  the  form  of  a  reproving  example ; 
whether  he  who  does  all  this,  does  not  really  and 
practically  call  good  evil. 

And  I  ask  you,  lastly,  whether  he  who,  in  relation 
to  the  self-same  acts,  performed  by  men  of  opposite 
descriptions,  has  a  judgment  suited  to  the  case  of 
each,  a  pillar  of  fire  one  way  and  of  cloud  the  other, 
but  the  dark  side  turned  to  Israel  and  the  bright  to 
the  Egyptians ;  all  compassion  to  the  wilful  trans¬ 
gressions  of  the  wicked,  and  all  inexorable  sternness 
to  the  innocent  infirmities  of  godly  men ;  he  who 
strains  at  a  gnat  in  the  behaviour  of  the  meek  and 


424 


SERMONS. 


conscientious  Christian,  but  can  swallow  a  camel  in 
the  conduct  of  the  self-indulgent  votary  of  pleasure  ; 
he  who  lauds  religion  as  exhibited  in  those  who  give 
him  no  uneasiness  by  their  example,  but  maligns  and 
disparages  it  when,  from  its  peculiar  strength  and 
brightness,  it  reflects  a  glare  of  painful  and  intolerable 
light  upon  his  own  corruptions ; — I  ask  whether  he 
who  does  all  this,  let  his  maxims  of  moral  philosophy 
be  what  they  will,  does  not,  to  all  intents  and  pur¬ 
poses,  incur  the  woe  pronounced  on  those  who  call 
evil  good  and  good  evil,  who  put  darkness  for  light 
and  light  for  darkness,  who  put  bitter  for  sweet  and 
sv/eet  for  bitter.  Ah,  my  hearers,  these  distinctions 
may  at  present  appear  arbitrary,  frivolous,  or  false, 
and  as  a  necessary  consequence,  the  guilt  of  confound¬ 
ing  them  may  fade  almost  to  nothing,  to  a  stain  so 
faint  upon  the  conscience  as  to  need  no  blood  of  ex¬ 
piation  to  remove  it.  In  the  present  darkness  of  your 
minds,  that  stain  may  even  disappear.  But  methinks 
I  see  already  the  faint  glimmer  of  a  light  which  is  to 
play  upon  that  fatal  spot  until  it  glows  and  sparkles, 
a  deep,  indelible,  and  damning  spot.  The  day  is 
coming  when  the  eye  of  reason  shall  no  longer  And  it 
possible  to  look  at  light  and  darkness  as  the  same ; 
when  the  moral  perceptions,  from  acute  to  agony, 
shall  cease  forever  to  confound  the  sweetness  of  true 
holiness  with  the  envenomed  gall  and  wormwood  of 
an  evil  conscience ;  and  the  Avoe  already  heard,  shall 
then  be  seen  and  felt ;  seen  by  the  sinner  in  the 
wri things  of  his  fellow-sinners,  felt  more  intensely  in 
his  own.  From  that  state  many  will  look  back  and 
wonder  at  themselves,  and  at  wdiat  they  now  are  do- 


ISAIAH  5,  20. 


425 


ing  in  despite  of  reason,  conscience,  and  experience, 
and  witli  tliat  solemn  admonition  ringing  in  their  ears, 
“  Woe  unto  them  that  call  evil  good,  and  good  evil ; 
that  put  darkness  for  light,  and  light  for  darkness ; 
that  put  bitter  for  sweet,  and  sweet  for  bitter.”  From 
the  darkness  and  the  bitterness  of  that  damnation, 
may  we  all  find  deliverance  through  Jesns  Christ  onr 
Lord. 


THE  END. 


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DATE  DUE 

GAYLORD 

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